Treading Water
by Its a Faaaaith
Summary: While on shore leave, Archer, Trip and Malcolm find themselves transported to the year 2371. Captain Picard is ecstatic to meet one of the most important figures in Federation History, but with Malcolm dealing with recent trauma and a request for help from a 'colleague', things don't go smoothly. Trigger warnings apply
1. Keep Your Head Up

His toes just barely scraped the bottom of the cave; he had to crane his neck to keep his chin out of the water. He was going to die like his uncle. He was going to drown, alone. Only he wouldn't have the distinction of going down saving everyone else on the ship. No, he was going to drown because he hadn't secured off properly and fell into an underground hole full of water and somehow between the thrashing and the flailing and the panic had ended up in this cave where the water didn't quite reach the roof and now here he was trying to stand in too deep water. On the bright side, he might end up with hypothermia and die from that first. How long had the Captain been gone? Malcolm knew he shouldn't have let him go, he'd let him drown, the Captain would never have even been here if it wasn't for Malcolm, he'd gone and pulled them both down, and how long had the Captain been gone, again? He said he was going to look for where they'd come in, but that was an age ago. The tight feeling in his throat that he'd felt since being in this cave was increasing, and he found himself trying to get a better grip on the rock half a foot above his head, his breath coming in gasps as he clawed at it, trying to hold onto anything. And now he was hallucinating, because there was no way there was a light coming towards him –

"Malcolm!" the Captain gasped as he surfaced, flashlight around his neck. "Still here?"

"Right here, sir," Malcolm replied, teeth chattering. Seeing Malcolm was struggling, the Captain reached out and held the back of Malcolm's jacket, helping him keep his head above water by the virtue of being a few inches taller and better able to stand.

"Good news, we can get back the way we came, it's over a metre behind me," Archer gestured over his shoulder, splashing the otherwise still water in the almost pitch-black cave – their only illumination was the flashlight around his neck, Malcolm having lost his as he fell. "Think you can hold your breath for a couple seconds?" Archer grinned.

Malcolm laughed nervously, which quickly turned hysterical. "No sir, no, I'm quite sure I can't." He scrabbled at the roof again, _something, there had to be something to hold onto_.

"Lieutenant –"

Malcolm cut him off "I can't do it, sir, I won't make it."

"Lieutenant, it's only a metre, less even," Archer said. "You can make it, I promise you. _Malcolm_," he cut the lieutenant off before he managed to get a word out. "The passage is wide enough for us to go side by side and it's short one. Come on, Trip is waiting on the other side for us… All you have to do is get your head a little wet."

Malcolm shook his head, his eyes wide. He pressed his fingers into the roof, trying futily to pull himself out of the water using his fingernails. "There has to be another way, sir, please, I can't go down there, please –"

"_Malcolm_," the Captain gave him a little shake. "The way we came in is the only way out, and you are going to have to follow me whether you like it or not. _That's an order Lieutenant_," he added forcefully when Malcolm shook his head. Archer dragged Malcolm towards the opening, telling him to look directly at him, that they were going to take a deep breath and dive. Into the freezing, black water. With a hidden exit. "I've got you, it's right here, I've got you. _Three, two, one_ –" Archer ducked under the water, dragging Malcolm with him, down and towards the way out, but Malcolm panicked. The water closed over his head and he started gulping down water, wrenching himself free from the Captain's grasp and kicking out, his foot colliding with something. He broke the surface of the water, and started to hyperventilate, struggling to get his footing and ended up swallowing even more water. He started flailing, desperately trying to stand but he couldn't find the ground and he slipped back under. This must be what his uncle felt in his final moments, as the water rose all around him and the life started draining from his body… this was the end –

And then his head broke the surface and it was air he was gasping instead of water. He coughed and sputtered and was vaguely aware of someone gripping the back of his collar.

"Breath, just breath, nice and steady," Archer said from behind him, one hand under Malcolm's arm, the other holding a fistful of his jacket. Malcolm was still coughing up water and struggling slightly, not liking that he couldn't find the ground. "I've got you, you're all right."

Malcolm thought he was going to be sick; He felt like he'd swallowed half the cave water. As he calmed down, the Captain pulled him back towards him until he could put an arm around his waist and held him above the water that way – it was easier than holding his arm out trying to help his panicked lieutenant thread water.

"Okay," Archer said tersely, "Orders don't work with phobias, duly noted." He could feel Malcolm shaking against him, out of a combination of cold and terror. His breathing was coming fast and shallow and was still coughing slightly. At least he's stopped trying to reach the ground, now that his head was completely out of the water, though now Archer was the one who had to crane his neck, with Malcolm weighing him down.

"I guess not, sir," Malcolm said, grabbing Captain Archer's arm around his waist with both hands. Archer was breathing heavily from having to hold his breath, getting a quarter of the way through the passage, fighting with Malcolm, getting elbowed _and then kicked_ in the ribs by Malcolm, having to then come back the way he came to get back to Malcolm… he was cold, he was tired, he was sore from the fall and he was fast losing his patience.

"If I go back to Trip," Archer started, "Are you going to be okay for five minutes?"

"Why?" Malcolm asked hurriedly, tightening his grip on Archer's arm.

"So, I can get some rope to lead us out. We can't stay here, it's been at least ten minutes and this water is less than 10*C. We won't last much longer. Do you understand?" Malcolm nodded. His teeth were beginning to audibly chatter. "So, will you be okay here until I come back with the rope?"

Alone. In the dark. In water. Malcolm started vigorously shaking his head. "No, no, don't leave me alone here, please –"

"Malcolm –"

"Please, no, I don't want to die here, don't let me drown, please don't let me drown –"

"_Enough lieutenant_," Archer snapped. "_Enough_. I will not let you drown, do you hear me? _You are not going to drown_." But if Archer couldn't get him out of here… He pushed that thought to the back of his mind and started wading backwards to where he knew the passage was. He was going to have to try and manhandle Malcolm back to Trip, if he left him here Malcom could panic and drown himself by the time Archer got back. "I'm going to take you under, _I will be here the entire time_," he added when Malcolm gave signs of protest. "I'm not going to let go of you; we're going to do this together, got it?" Malcolm nodded slowly. "Here's the plan: reach out your hand here, feel that? It's the roof entrance, it's just below the water line; okay, that's the side; we're going to go under, you're going to keep one hand on the roof to guide you through and walk along the bottom, it's only half a metre, 50cm, you can manage that. I'll have a hold of you the entire time."

"I'm sorry, I can't," Malcolm sounded desperate, his voice cracking. "I'm sorry, I'm so sorry."

"I don't need you to be sorry, Malcolm, I need you to be brave. You can do that." Archer had a sudden inspiration. "Remember when the Suliban commandeered the ship? And Hoshi had to crawl through the access panels to get to Phlox? She managed that despite being claustrophobic, remember? Do it for Hoshi, Malcolm, can you do that? Just be brave, you got this, we've got this."

Silence, and then "For Hoshi," Malcolm said, shivering violently.

"And for aquaphobes everywhere. We can do this," Archer was starting to lose sensation in his hands and feet.

Malcolm huffed in a way that Archer assumed was meant to be a laugh. He nodded after a moment. "For Hoshi, and aquaphobes everywhere."

"Three big, deep breaths in, then hold your breath, put your hand out, got it? Feel the roof? Half a metre, even less. One… two… three!"

Archer pushed them under and forward with one hand, his feet hitting the bottom. He could feel Malcolm's fingernails digging into his arm.

Malcolm nearly lost his resolve when the water covered his eyes. He kept one hand on the roof of the passage, one on Captain Archer's arm that held him securely around the waist. He took a few steps forward, but really the Captain was doing most of the work, using one hand and both of his feet to propel them forward. _They'd been under for eternity_. Then Malcolm felt the Captain let go and he tried to grab his arm again, bubbles escaping his mouth, water gushing into his lungs. Then hands on either hip, pushing him forward and up. Malcolm flailed and kicked, his foot colliding with something, his head broke the surface of the water, two pairs of hands were pulling him out, one lifting him up the incline and passing him off to another two pairs of hands. Before he knew it, Malcolm was sitting on a rock, with his back against the wall, a thermal blanket wrapped around him and someone administering a hypospray. The Captain fell heavily next to him, wrapped in his own blanket, his nose bloodied. There were others in the cavern besides Trip, though Malcolm could only be sure Trip was there because he heard him admonishing him for trying to give himself hypothermia. Malcolm spotted a pair of boots close by him and looked up to see their owner.

It was a Klingon.


	2. The NX-01

"Enterprise, come in," Trip called through the comm, getting nothing since they'd passed through the last cavern. He was crouched at the bottom of a steep three metre slope where Malcolm had fallen down after the rock he'd secured himself to had crumbled away, taking the Captain with him when he tried to grab Malcolm. At the top of the slope was the entrance to a passage way; Straight up was, well, straight up for over 100 metres; Where Trip was standing was where it was starting to even out and he should have been able to walk through to the next cavern if it wasn't filled with water. And that was where Captain Archer and Lt. Reed had fallen through. When they hadn't resurfaced Trip figured their momentum had catapulted them into the next passage. Where he sincerely hoped there was an air pocket.

Trip had tied himself off and carefully picked his way down the slope, trying to get through to Enterprise the entire time.

"Enterprise, mayday, we have a situation, come in," Trip repeated, about to place the comm to one side and dive in after the Captain and Malcolm when –

"This is Enterprise, we read you. What seems to be the matter?"

That wasn't Hoshi. Was it Lt. Williams?

"The Captain and Lt. Reed fell into an underwater pool and haven't resurfaced yet. Do you have their bio signs?"

There was a pause. Then "We're detecting three human life signs, two of them are quite close together, approximately two metres from your present location, I would assume that would be your Captain and Lt. Reed. Their life signs are strong, it doesn't appear the danger is immediate. Can you get to them safely?"

"Not likely, but I'm prepared to do it the unsafe way. Can you get a transporter lock on 'em?"

"Rocks in certain sections of the cave system appear to contain tricaesium minerals, the closest we could lock on is 150 metres from you present location. To whom am I speaking?"

_What? _Trip mouthed to the empty cave. "Cmdr. Tucker, to whom am I speaking? And where's Cmdr. T'Pol? And Ensign Sato for that matter? Hey, who the hell is this?!" He shouted when he received no answer.

More silence. Trip was about to demand an answer and to speak to T'Pol when the radio crackled to life again.

"Am I speaking to Commander Charles Tucker III, Chief Engineer of the Starship Enterprise?"

* * *

"Who else?!" The voice of Cmdr. Tucker sounded like it was fast running out of patience. "Who is this?"

"The NX-01?"

"Of course! And for the last time, give me your name, crewman!"

Captain Picard turned to exchange a glance with Cmdr. Riker, simultaneously signaling to Lt. Worf to mute the transmission.

"How can this be, sir?" Data asked from his position at Ops, swiveling around. "Cmdr. Tucker died well over a century ago." Naturally it had been Data to make the Tucker-T'Pol-Sato-NX-01 connection, prompting Picard to ask for clarification from the whomever had hailed them as soon as they entered orbit.

"Could be some kind of trick, not that I can see the point in pretending to be a two hundred and fifty-year-old engineer," Riker said as he rose and came to stand next to Picard in front of the view screen.

"There's a great deal of panic coming from the surface," Deanna informed them. "And the speaker, if he is Cmdr. Tucker, is growing impatient. He fears for his companions – if you don't respond soon he will go after them regardless of the danger. But deception is not something I'm sensing from him."

"Acknowledged, Counsellor. Mr. Data, scan for ships and other life signs. And check Starfleet records for evidence that the NX-01 visited this planet two hundred years ago," Picard directed. "Mr. Worf inform Dr. Crusher her presence may be needed on the surface, two possible cases of hypoxia and hypothermia." He turned to Riker and opened his mouth to speak but was interrupted.

"Hey!" Cmdr. Tucker sounded clearly angry now. "I do not have time for this, who the hell is on the other end of this transmission?"

"My name is Jean-Luc Picard," Picard started, glancing at Riker again before continuing. "Captain of the USS Enterprise, serial number NCC-1701-D." No response. "Cmdr. Tucker, did you read me?"

Still no response and then "What year is it?" Cmdr. Tucker sounded resigned and Riker could almost imagine him making a pained expression.

"Captain," Data said softly. "There are no other humanoid life signs on the planet and no other ships in orbit or on the planet's surface. I am still searching Starfleet records for record of a previous mission here."

"Sir, permission to take an away team to the surface," Riker said quietly. Picard nodded, and Riker strode swiftly out of the bridge, taking Data and Worf with him. He radioed Dr. Crusher on his way to the turbolift, to meet them in transporter room three.

"2371," Picard told Cmdr. Tucker. "I'm sending an away team down to assist you, they should only be a few moments. How did you know to ask the year, Commander?"

"We detected some temporal radiation in a cavern back there. Room went kinda fuzzy and then our ears popped. We decided that was the time to leave. Shouldn't have gone in there in the first place, apparently. Hang on, I think I see something in the water. It's Captain Archer, he's resurfaced!"

* * *

Trip grabbed Archer's arm and hauled him out of the water. "Captain are you okay? Where's Malcolm?" He helped Archer sit on the rocks, regretting he'd left his pack with an extra jacket at the top of the slope.

"Still in the other cave, I had to see if I could find the way out," Archer said, shivering, running his hand through his hair and over his face, shaking the water off. "Damn, that water's cold." He pointed to the water. "There's a passage way, about a metre and a half long, same height and width, opens into a flooded cave not much taller than me. Left Malcolm in an air pocket. Did you get in touch with Enterprise?"

"Well, yes and no," Trip admitted. "That temporal radiation? Turns out it was more than just a sensor anomaly: I've just been having a conversation with the Captain of the Enterprise NCC-1701-D, who claims we're in the year 2371." Archer just stared at Trip, thinking there must be an awful lot of water in his ears. "It'd make sense, Captain, we haven't been able to contact our crew since we were in that cave."

Archer sighed. "Malcolm first, time travel nonsense second. If we have, you know –"

"Time travelled," they both finished at the same time.

The comm came life "Cmdr. Tucker, is your captain alright?"

"Affirmative, but Lt. Reed isn't with him."

Archer gestured for the comm and Trip handed it to him. "This is Captain Johnathan Archer, who am I speaking with?"

"Captain Johnathan Archer." If Trip didn't know any better, he'd say that the other captain sounded vaguely star struck. "My name is Jean-Luc Picard, I command the most recent starship with the name Enterprise."

"Have you detected my Enterprise or Columbia in orbit? Or any shuttle pods on the surface?"

"I'm afraid not, sir," Picard replied.

"If you could scan the planet for temporal radiation, I'd appreciate it. But for now, I need to go back for my lieutenant, I'm sure we'll have much to discuss when we meet face to face. Archer out."

Trip nodded as he took the comm back. "There's an away team coming down to give us a hand."

"Alright," Archer said. "I'm going back for Malcolm. Get as much information as you can from these people, I want to know what the hell is going on."

"Sir, you're freezing, let me do it," Trip said, holding a hand out to stop Archer from slipping back into the water.

"I'm already wet, Trip," Archer replied, brushing Trip's hand away. He shrugged, took a deep breath and went back in. Trip watched until the light from the flashlight around his torso disappeared. It had no sooner faded from view than Trip heard footsteps above him and a voice calling out his name.

"Down here!" Trip called back, standing as best he could. At the top of the slope a man appeared, tall, neatly trimmed beard, and in uniform, the arms and torso red, the rest of the uniform black, even the shoulders. Trip shone his light up at him, causing him to squint. He could see three pips on the collar and got a good look at his face. Trip was shocked. He looked an awful lot like Riker… Next to him was a very, _very_ pale man in the exact same uniform, except the red was replaced with yellow, a woman in a blue version of the uniform and behind her –

Trip pointed to the last man, also wearing yellow. "So, does this mean the Klingons stop shooting at us every time they see us? Because if they stopped doing that, I really think we could be friends," Trip deadpanned.

The commander laughed. "Depends on the Klingon, but yes, they are our allies. I'm Cmdr. William T. Riker, first officer of the Enterprise; This is Lt. Worf, our tactical officer."

Lt. Worf scowled, or maybe that was just his default facial expression, as he informed Captain Picard that the away team had made contact.

"Nice to meet you, William T., Lt. Worf." _Riker?_ He pushed the thought away for the moment, crouching back down and indicated to the pool of water with his flashlight. "Captain resurfaced a few minutes ago, he went back for Lt. Reed. It's only a short way, they should be back at any minute. And you two are?"

"Lt. Cmdr. Data, sir," Data said as he jumped down next to Trip, landing easily and crouching beside. "May I say, sir, it is an honour to meet you."

"Nice to meet you, too," Trip said slowly, staring at Data, who stared back with a benignly curious expression on his face. He glanced from where Data had jumped. "Nice landing."

"I am an android, sir," Data replied. "As such I have significant advantages over humans, including enhanced speed, strength, dexterity and computational power. And, finally, that is Cr. Crusher."

"Pleasure," Trip said, with an expression on his face that clearly said _what the hell have I walked into_, not taking his eyes off of Data. "So, Starfleet has androids now?"

"Just me, sir," Data replied.

"Commander, do you know how this happened?" Riker called down, feeling they were getting off topic.

Trip dragged his eyes away from Data. "How Captain Archer and Lt. Reed became trapped, or how we seem to have time traveled? Because the answer to the first one is just there." Trip indicated a spot on the wall to the left and above Riker's head. There was a hole in the rock where it had crumbled around Malcolm's anchor. "Lt. Reed secured off there, it crumbled, he fell, Captain tried to grab him. Jack and Jill came tumbling down the hill and landed in here." He pointed at the water with his flashlight. "As I told your captain we detected some temporal radiation in one of the caverns we were exploring. We felt funny, we left, but not soon enough, as it happens. Last time I go spelunking, I swear." Trip turned back to the pool, frowning. "Captain should be back with Malcolm by now."

"I could go look for them, sir, I do not need to breathe."

"Is that so," Trip replied. He wasn't quite sure how he felt about an android in Starfleet. Or androids at all, for that matter, but hey, he'd only ever met the one. "We'll give them another minute, then, maybe, send you in. That okay with you, Commander?"

"My thoughts exactly, Commander." If this wasn't some kind of deception and it really was _the_ Trip Tucker… Geordi was going to be a very happy engineer. Would probably ask him to sign the warp coils.

"How long have they been in the water?" Dr. Crusher asked, preparing a hypospray with glucose and leaving a couple of thermal blankets accessible to one side.

"Close to fifteen minutes," Trip told her. "Captain had a five-minute break, but Malcolm's been submerged the whole time. I'm registering air temperature of about 9.5*C."

"Hypothermia shouldn't be an issue, as long as we get them out soon. Getting them warm and dry will be my first priority."

"Sir, there." Data pointed it out and there it was, a faint light underneath the water. The next second Malcolm's head broke the surface of the water. He was gasping and panickedly flailing about until Trip and Data grabbed him under the arms and lifted him out ("Were you trying to give yourself hypothermia, lieutenant?"). Data then took Malcolm and with ease lifted him up so that Riker and Worf could grab his arms. Trip could hear Malcolm coughing and retching up above as he helped Captain Archer out of the water, who, in comparison to Malcolm, was barely panting.

"Welcome back, Captain," Trip said, as Data turned back to them.

"I am Lt. Cmdr. Data, Captain Archer," he said. "Welcome to the 24th century. May I assist you up the slope, sir?"

"Thank you, Lt. Cmdr. Data," Archer said, bemused, his teeth chattering. Data gave both him and Trip a leg up before easily scaling it himself.

"He's an android," Trip told Archer, as Riker draped a thermal blanket around his shoulders and helped him sit next to Malcolm. "Only one in Starfleet."

"Is that so," Archer said, looking up at Data, who looked vaguely familiar. He then caught sight of Lt. Worf. "Hello, there."

"Captain, I need to get you and Lt. Reed out of these clothes as fast as possible and into dry ones. Right away, please," Dr. Crusher said, as she finished scanning Malcolm with her tricorder and moving onto Archer. She opened the larger case she'd brought with her to reveal clean, dry clothes. She started to examine Archer's nose before beginning to prepare another hypospray while Trip bent down and started to take off Archer's shoes and socks for him, and Worf moved to help Malcolm. But Malcolm looked up, caught sight of a Klingon moving for him and started, hitting the wall behind him and trying to press himself into it.

"Easy lieutenant," Trip said, moving to crouch in front of Malcolm, placing his hands on his arms. "He's friendly. I think." He kneeled and started to peel Malcolm's sodden clothes off of him and replace them with the dry ones, taking care to preserve his dignity with the thermal blanket.

"Only when it agrees with me, sir," Worf said, causing Trip and Archer to chuckle.

"I'm guessing we make an alliance with the Klingon Empire at some point," Archer said, teeth still chattering. He accepted the drink Dr. Crusher held to his lips and took a few sips. She then started to clean up his nose. He was more or less able to undress and redress himself, with a little help from the doctor. Malcolm was half out of it, meaning Trip was doing most of the work. "There's hope for the future."

Worf was about to reply but he was cut off by Malcolm. Without any warning he pitched forward at the waist and retched – getting sick right into Trip's lap.

"Malcolm!"

Trip jumped up and back, staring down in horror at his knees. Malcolm continued to retch. "Sir, I am so –" he cut himself off, getting sick on the floor – and Trip's shoes. "Really, sir –" He threw up again before starting to dry heave.

"It's alright, don't worry about it," Trip said through clenched teeth and looking revolted, taking the towel Dr. Crusher offered him and moving next to Malcolm and around the splash zone, and started to rub his back. He glared at Archer, who was biting his lip trying not to laugh, his nose having been fixed by the Doctor.

"Better out than in, I suppose."


	3. Malcolm's Bad Day

1\. Behaved in a manner ill befitting a Starfleet officer when faced with danger  
2\. Acted cowardly when faced with an entirely non-threatening Klingon  
3\. Had been incapable of dressing himself and needed a superior officer to do it for him  
4\. Cracked two of his commanding officer's ribs  
5\. Broken his commanding officer's nose  
6\. Gotten sick in a superior officer's lap

Malcolm sincerely wished he had drowned in that cave. A feeling of deep shame pooled in his stomach when he remembered how he'd begged the Captain to not let him die. He rolled over onto his side, waiting for the doctor to come back and discharge him. He'd woken up to find the Captain and Trip had left to discuss the current situation with this Enterprise's Captain and had been trying to fall back asleep ever since. He tugged the blanket closer around himself. The only reason he was still being held in sickbay was a residual infection he'd picked up thanks to all the cave water he'd swallowed ("How thirsty were you?" Trip had asked, incredulously, when one of the doctors informed him and the Captain that she needed to keep Malcolm a little longer), but he still felt a chill in his bones, like he couldn't get warm. And when he closed his eyes, it was difficult not to imagine that he was back in that cave, the water rising up…

"Excuse me, Lt. Reed?"

Malcolm looked over his shoulder to see a commander wearing medical blue standing there. He heaved himself up and swung his legs around the other side of the bed, keeping his legs covered with the blanket – he was only in shorts and a vest, Dr. Crusher wanting to keep him as stripped as possible, so she could control his body temperature with the biobed. As soon as he sat up he regretted it, however, as his head swooned, and the commander had to grab his arm to steady him.

"I hope I'm not disturbing you," she said in an accent he couldn't place, smiling. "Can I get you anything? Water perhaps?"

"I'm fine, ma'am, thank you," Malcolm replied, but really, he'd never wanted a jumper more; it was a bit chilly in sickbay. Face to face, he got a better look at her: she was around his own age, very curly dark hair that was swept back from her face in a coif, but it was her eyes that struck him – the irises were black, if she actually had any at all. Realizing he was staring, he looked quickly away.

7\. Stared like a creep at a superior officer's eyes

"My name is Deanna," she said, smiling again, either not noticing or nor caring that he'd been staring. "I'm the ship's counsellor on board the Enterprise. Well, this Enterprise at least." She paused before continuing. "I was wondering if you wanted to talk."

A counsellor? _A counsellor?_ Surely this hadn't been the Captain's idea? That he thought that after earlier Malcolm would need psychiatric treatment?

"I'm fine, ma'am, thank you," Malcolm said again, and mentally kicked himself.

Deanna turned slightly coy. "Deanna. And I only came in to sickbay because I could sense great discomfort from you as I was passing and wanted to see if I could help in anyway."

"I'm sorry – 'sense'?"

"I'm an empath, Lieutenant. As you can imagine it comes in handy in my job as counsellor."

Malcolm was startled – and to be honest, slightly appalled. _She had been reading his thoughts this entire time?_ He could think of no greater invasion of privacy. Either she sensed this, or his face betrayed his feelings (probably a combination of both) because she continued.

"I can only sense your emotions, it's really rather similar to reading someone's body language, or tone of voice." She turned very gentle, as though afraid of spooking him. "I don't actively seek people out for a detailed reading, but if you don't mind my saying, Lieutenant, you were too obvious to ignore."

Wonderful. Malcolm crossed his ankles under the blanket and tugged it a little closer to his torso.

"I appreciate the offer Commander, but it's not necessary," Malcolm said. "I think this whole situation has just thrown me for a loop. It is my first time travelling through time after all." He forced a small smile onto his face, trying to appear nonchalant. "Old hat for Captain Archer."

Deanna returned the smile and said, "What do you mean 'old hat'?" Malcolm must have felt he said too much, because he looked like he was struggling to find what to say next. "Well, if you change your mind my office is on deck eight."

Dr. Crusher chose that moment to return. "Lieutenant, you should be lying down," she admonished, checking his vitals. "Hmm, your body temperature is still slightly elevated, here, this should help." She gave him something in a hypospray before helping him lie back down. "Now, I've got good news and bad news."

"I'd like the bad news first, if you wouldn't mind," Malcolm said, pulling the blanket up to his chin. "You can make me feel better with the good news afterwards."

Beverly grinned. "Very well: unfortunately, the microorganism's toxin is still in your bloodstream, it's what's causing the fever. Do you feel uncomfortably warm at all?"

Malcolm replied that actually, no, he was a little on the cold side. The good news turned out to be that the microorganism in question was dead and that the toxin would be neutralized in a few hours and the effects would dissipate an hour or two after that. He would have to stay in sickbay another hour but after that he would be shown quarters.

"Where I'd like you to rest until tomorrow morning," Dr. Crusher told him, examining his vital signs.

"I'll do my best Doctor," Malcolm said, "But no promises."

"You will promise me, lieutenant, or I will keep you here until I'm satisfied," she said, mock threateningly.

"I'd do what she says, lieutenant, she means business," Deanna teased. At that moment the sick bay doors opened, and Captain Archer returned, accompanied by another man. He was about Malcolm's height but older, balding, and wearing what was in this century command red. Malcolm attempted to sit up again, the Doctor and Deanna helping him steady himself.

"How's he doing Doctor?" Archer asked, smiling at Malcolm. He'd changed from the grey overalls he'd been given and back into his uniform. "Cough up all that water yet?" He directed the last question to Malcolm, clapping him on the shoulder.

"Just about, sir," Malcolm replied. He looked to the man who come in with Archer, seeing four pips on his collar. "Sir," Malcolm nodded. He thought he recognized the captain… had he been in sickbay earlier? Malcolm could barely remember being taken from the cave to the ship, it was all rather blurry in his mind. The only thing he knew for certainty was that he'd thrown up on Trip. The thought made him grow warm with embarrassment.

"This is Captain Picard, of the Starship Enterprise," Archer said, barely suppressing a grin as he said the last part. He seemed to be enjoying himself, Malcolm noted. "Jean-Luc, Lt. Malcolm Reed, my Armoury Officer."

"It's a pleasure, Mr. Reed," Picard said, smiling kindly. "The exploits of the NX-01 and its crew are legendary."

"Nice to know we haven't been forgotten, sir," Malcolm replied, slightly abashed.

"When will he be free to go?" Archer directed that at Dr. Crusher.

"The antibiotic worked, toxin is almost neutralized. I'll discharge him in an hour, provided he rests for the remainder of the night," she replied, looking up from double checking her PADD.

"Do you have a plan to get us home, sir?" Malcolm asked. He drew his arms around his waist, as he was starting to shiver. "Not that I'm not enjoying the company, of course."

"Mr. Tucker is working with our Chief Engineer and Mr. Data," Picard replied. "We're pooling our respective knowledge and experience of time travel."

"Hopefully we'll have something concrete soon. Could I have a word with my Lieutenant in private?" Archer asked, turning to Captain Picard.

"Of course." Picard nodded. "I'll wait outside to escort you to engineering. Lieutenant." Picard gestured to Dr. Crusher and Deanna and the three of them gave Archer and Malcolm some privacy.

"I was about to join Trip in engineering, I just wanted to check on you first," Archer said, waiting until the others were out of earshot.

"All good here, sir –" Malcolm cut off abruptly, his eyes fixed on something behind Archer.

"How's everybody doing?" Cmdr. Riker entered sickbay just as Picard and Deanna got to the door, holding a piece of pie on a plate. "Captain, Captain, Deanna. Data thinks he's tuned a sensor system to isolate the frequency of the temporal radiation generated in the cave system and wants to deploy it in the cave our guests came through over-night to gather as much data as possible; if they can get what they need, Geordi and Trip think the can generate a tachyon beam able to stabilize it long enough for you all to get through to your own time."

"Tell Mr. Data to make it so, Number One," Picard said. He looked down Riker's hand, curiously.

Riker held up the plate he was holding and strode over to Malcolm's biobed. "Curtesy of Cmdr. Tucker: pineapple pie. He was planning on bringing it up himself, but I think he got distracted; he was standing there with Geordi modifying the emitters, pie in one hand, laser-spanner in the other. I volunteered." Riker smiled as he held the plate out to Malcolm, who looked like he'd seen a ghost.

"That was very kind of you, Commander," Archer said, a bit more enthusiastically than necessary, taking the plate from him when it became obvious that Malcolm wasn't going to. He hadn't wanted Malcolm to see the Commander without warning him first. "But if Lt. Reed ever wants to get out of this sickbay this century, I think we should let him get some rest."

The consoles around Malcolm started beeping causing Dr. Crusher to come hurrying over. "How do you feel, lieutenant?" she asked, checking his vital signs against the PADD in her hand. "His heart rate and blood pressure just spiked. Alyssa, I need a hypospray." Archer put the pie down on the tray behind him and helped the doctor lie Malcolm back down.

"I'd best get out of the way," Riker said, looking put out. He nodded to Archer. "Captain."

He retreated out of sickbay with Picard, while Deanna moved over to Dr. Crusher's side to whisper something in her ear. Glancing over his shoulder he saw the doctor and Deanna move away from Malcolm while Archer bent down to whisper something to his lieutenant before the doors closed.


	4. It's Them, Alright

"You're quite sure, Doctor?" Picard asked, reading the PADD in amazement. Riker took it when he looked up and strode over to Dr. Crusher, reading it intently. They were in conference in Dr. Crusher's office, where Picard had met the away team after they brought back their guests. He'd glimpsed Captain Archer, Cmdr. Tucker and Lt. Reed when he entered sickbay, where they were currently being examined in the next room, being kept company by Misters Worf and Data.

"One hundred percent," Dr. Crusher said, taking the PADD back from Riker. "Their DNA is a perfect match to what we have on record. It's them."

"Captain Johnathan Archer," Picard said, walking around the desk. He turned back to face the doctor. "He's considered the greatest explorer of the 22nd century, made first contact with the Andorians, he helped write the Federation Charter, his example led to the development of almost every principle and ideal the Federation holds dear –" Picard broke off, fixing his shirt. "I have so many questions for them."

Picard was almost giddy, but a sudden thought sobered him. "But as much as I'd like to take advantage of this opportunity – an historian's _dream_ – we could risk wreaking havoc on the timeline if we reveal too much."

"That may be, Captain," Riker said, grinning. "But while we have them, a few questions about their more exciting exploits couldn't hurt. We just can't tell about any of _ours_."

"Provided we don't ask about anything they haven't done yet," Dr. Crusher pointed out.

"I suppose I should greet our guests." Picard tugged his shirt down again. "Make them feel at home while they're with us."

"You look fine, Captain," Dr. Crusher teased.

"It's Johnathan Archer," Picard replied, with a slight intensity in his voice. "I, and this entire ship for that matter, better appear more than 'fine'."

"How thirsty were you?" Picard heard Cmdr. Tucker ask as he left the office, Riker and Dr. Crusher behind him. He heard Lt. Reed mumble a response, but he was beginning to drift into unconsciousness by the time Picard reached his biobed. Captain Archer and Cmdr. Tucker turned around as he approached. They were standing on one side of Lt. Reed's biobed, Nurse Ogawa and the blond, short haired, Dr. Dettmer on the other. They were both wearing standard grey overalls and Picard made a mental note to get them back their old uniforms as soon as possible. Mr. Worf was standing off to one side; Mr. Data was nowhere to be seen.

"I gave him an anti-pyretic and a sedative, Doctor. It should take full effect in the next five minutes and he should be out for the next hour," Nurse Ogawa told Dr. Crusher as Dr. Dettmer handed off Lt. Reed's chart and moved to check on another patient.

"Is he going to be okay?" Captain Archer asked, brow furrowed.

"We'll know in about twenty minutes if the antibiotics are effective and we're working on synthesising an anti-toxin for the substance the organism is producing." She glanced down at the chart. "But initial results appear very promising, with any luck he'll be right as rain by tomorrow." Dr. Crusher and Nurse Ogawa moved off to examine Lt. Reed's test results more closely as the Captain moved forward to introduce himself.

"Captain Archer, I'm Jean-Luc Picard, Captain of this vessel," Picard said, giving a half smile. "May I say, sir, it is a pleasure to actually meet you."

"Pleasure's all mine." Captain Archer took Picard's offered hand. "And it's Johnathan, please. Fine ship you have here."

"You've already met my First Officer and Chief Medical Officer." Picard gestured to Riker and Dr. Crusher, the former of which nodded in acknowledgement.

"We appreciate all your people's help, I'm not entirely sure that Malcolm and I could have made it to the surface under our own steam."

"And with all due respect, sir, I wasn't carrying you," Cmdr. Tucker interjected. Captain Archer gave a small laugh. "Sorry we got off on the wrong foot earlier, Captain Picard, I didn't realise which Enterprise I was talking to."

"We'll say no more about it Commander," Picard replied. "A very understandable mistake, given the circumstances. But if you both will come with me, we really ought to determine the root cause of this situation, and remedy it as soon as possible. Provided they've been cleared, Doctor." When Cr. Crusher gave the all clear, Picard held out an arm towards the door.

Captain Archer nodded. "Agreed," he said, moving towards the door. "Cmdr. Data's left to start a sweep for temporal anomalies, hopefully we can just go back the way we came." After a few paces, he stopped and turned around. "You planning on coming, Trip?"

"Yeah, uh, Doctor, Malcolm was complaining he was cold a few minutes ago…" he trailed off. "He definitely doesn't have hypothermia, right?"

"He actually has a fever, but I'm controlling his body temperature with the biobed and medication. I'm not worried about him, Commander. I'll notify you if anything changes," Dr. Crusher told him gently.

Captain Archer nodded, said he would appreciate that and told Cmdr. Tucker to let the medical team do their jobs, leading the way out of sickbay.

"I swear," Captain Archer started, as soon as the doors closed behind him. "If anyone's going to get sick on an away mission, it's going to be Lt. Reed." Picard gestured down the corridor and started to lead the way, Captain Archer next to him, the commanders bringing up the rear.

"Captain Picard, should I have Lt. Cmdr. LaForge meet us in the observation lounge?" Riker asked.

"Good idea, Number One," Picard said. "Our Chief Engineer," he clarified to Captain Archer and Commander Tucker.

"Does he have experience navigating temporal anomalies?" Captain Archer asked.

"We do have some experience with time travel, but our excursions to the past have all been thanks to the, ah, _efforts_ of other species," Picard explained. "I'm afraid we don't have the technology ourselves."

"Yet," Cmdr. Tucker pointed out. "Give it a few centuries, if our pal Daniels is right about that."

"A member of the Temporal Agency from the 31st century," Captain Archer informed them. "What do you know about the Temporal Cold War?"


	5. Consider It

Malcolm paused at the door, fixing his uniform and straightening himself up. He exhaled, then rang the bell.

"Come in," he heard the Captain call, and Malcolm entered to see him sitting with Trip at a small table, glasses of orange juice in front of them. The doors shut behind him with a slight hiss.

"About time, I'm starving," Trip said, getting up and moving towards the replicator. "What'll you have Malcolm?"

"Uh, what's on offer, sir?" Malcolm stood there awkwardly, as Archer poured him some juice.

"Anything you want. Trip and I are feeling like pancakes, this morning," Archer said. "We were just having a debate on the merits of different breakfast foods when you came in."

"Pancakes sound good, sir." Malcolm glanced over towards the replicator. Dr. Dettmer had just finished her duty shift at the same time that Malcolm was discharged last night, and had offered to escort him to guest quarters. She'd given him a quick tour, showed him how to use everything, including the comm panel, before leaving in a hurry – something about an irate babysitter. He'd then promptly collapsed in a bed that belonged in a hotel room, before being woken by the computer telling him that it was oh seven hundred thirty hours and he was expected in the Captain's temporary quarters. She hadn't stopped repeating the message until Malcolm told her - it - to shut up.

Trip ordered three lots of pancakes with everything on them from the replicator, then theatrically gasped and turned to face the other two with mock amazement as they appeared. He carried the three plates over, setting them in front of Archer, himself and Malcolm's empty chair. "Dig in." Trip picked up his knife and fork and cut himself some pancake, making sure it was covered in syrup and took a bite. "Chef's is better."

"Is something wrong, Malcolm?" Archer said, starting on his own, his brow furrowed in confusion when he saw that Malcolm was still standing. His confusion deepened when Malcolm clasped his hands behind his back, standing at ease.

"I wanted to apologise for yesterday, sir, to the both of you, as a matter of fact." Malcolm was looking at a point above Archer's head. "My behaviour on the surface reflects poorly on myself and on Starfleet and I want to assure you it won't happen again."

"People puke when they get sick, Malcolm, the uniform's been washed." Trip had an incredulous look on his face. "Don't worry about it."

"It wasn't just that, the way I was acting when we were trapped was shameful," Malcolm continued, glancing at Trip. From the confused look on Trip's face Malcolm realized that the Captain hadn't told him about Malcolm's pitiful begging and whimpering. Small mercies.

"Malcolm, like Trip said, don't worry about," Archer interrupted before Malcolm could continue. "It's old news. Sit down, eat your pancakes."

Malcolm still didn't take a seat. He hesitated, then said in a rush "Would you still be saying that if the events of a few weeks ago hadn't occurred? Sir?"

Archer and Trip stared at him, surprised. This was the first time that Malcolm had brought up the attack himself; Archer had spoken to him a couple of times about what to expect when they returned to Earth, but Malcolm had only responded with "Understood, sir" and either changed the subject or requested to be dismissed; whenever Trip tried to talk to him he forcefully told him to drop it.

"Okay, from the beginning." Trip held up a hand to stop Malcolm from saying anything else. "What happened in the cave? And why do you think those two things are related?"

"Malcolm has an issue with water," Archer said, gently. "Yesterday was a bit of a harrowing experience."

"And I ask again, sir: Would you be so quick to excuse me if what happened a few weeks ago hadn't happened?"

"Yes, I would be," Archer assured him. "Everyone has something Malcolm. There's no shame in being afraid, and that remains the same, recent ordeals notwithstanding."

"It was still behaviour unsuited to a Starfleet officer," Malcolm insisted, his voice low. He wasn't quite looking Archer in the eye, instead focusing on a star visible out of the window behind him. "If you hadn't been there, sir, I most assuredly would have drowned. It's a weakness I can ill afford to have."

"Perhaps that may be true," Archer acquiesced. "But I think that's a job for a psychiatrist; I don't think a reprimand from me is going to have much of an effect on your fear of water. So, if that's what you're looking for from me, Malcolm, you're out of luck. And I would be saying the exact same if this happened _before_. Understood?"

"Understood, sir."

"Good. Now, eat your pancakes, they're getting cold."

Malcolm finally sat down. Trip looked slightly awkward. He looked around the table as though trying to find inspiration then decided to hell with it: they needed to have this conversation.

"Do you think we've been mollycoddling you?" Trip asked, after a few moments. "Since… it happened?"

Malcolm stared at a piece of bacon on the side of his plate, his fork poised over the plate. "A little bit, yes. Don't get me wrong," he said, not looking up from his plate. "I appreciate the concern you've all shown me, but honestly," Malcolm paused, hesitant. And when he spoke again his voice was shaking, almost imperceptibly. "I find the attention disconcerting. It's just unnecessary. You don't need to worry about me, and I'm getting sick of someone always hovering over me, all the glances, as though I'm going to snap at any moment. You've been treating me, quite frankly, as though I'm a child, and I'm getting tired of it. It's insulting, not to mention a constant reminder that something happened that I'd much rather forget!"

His voice had been getting steadily louder with every sentence. He took a deep breath when he finished, looking up at to see Archer and Trip staring at him, trying to school their faces into neutral expressions. "Sirs," he finished, putting down his fork.

"Alright," Trip said slowly. "We can talk about that –"

"This is what I'm talking about!" Malcolm stood abruptly. "I just had an outburst directed at two superior officers, and you're acting like that's acceptable! It's not, and a few weeks ago you wouldn't be acting like it was! I just want some normalcy, I _don't_ think that's too much to ask for!"

"That's enough, lieutenant," Archer said as he stood, injecting as much authority into voice as possible. Malcolm shut his mouth, swallowing whatever he was about to say next. "You want the gloves to come off? Alright, here's how it is: you were attacked, there's no getting around that. And as much as I'd like to pretend that it never happened, I can't. You can't either. And if you don't at least try to deal with it it's going to fester and eat away at you from the inside." Archer strode around the table, towards Malcolm, who took a step back. "I need to know that you're dealing with this, but you keep everything so close to the vest that I can't be sure that you are, so we're erring on the side of caution." He put a hand on Malcolm's shoulder. "This is going to stay with you. Maybe for a long time. I need you to know you can rely on us to help you get through it."

"I do, sir," Malcolm said, quietly. Archer nodded his head, though he wasn't entirely satisfied. He sat down anyway, Malcolm following suit.

"Look, how's this," Trip said. "We back off, but you have to promise to come to someone, me, the Captain, Phlox, anyone, if you feel overwhelmed or just want to talk. Deal? Captain?"

"I think I can agree to that." Archer nodded. "Malcolm?"

Malcolm nodded, but then buried his face in his hands. His shoulders began to shake as he let out a sob. Archer and Trip shared a look. The overprotectiveness the senior staff had been showing towards Malcolm wasn't entirely without cause: for the past three weeks he'd been subdued, speaking only when spoken to; he'd also been more volatile and was more likely to snap at his security personnel; he nearly bit Hoshi's head clean off and snapped at her to mind her own business when she asked how he was doing; he hadn't been to movie night despite Trip picking Indiana Jones for him; he'd been late for duty shifts on the bridge on three separate occasions; T'Pol caught him _crying_ in the armoury and once he'd to excuse himself from the bridge; and he looked like he hadn't slept in weeks. Which Archer knew for a fact he wasn't, seeing as the couple of times he'd taken a midnight stroll to the galley, Malcolm had been in the mess hall. Despite Malcolm claiming the contrary, Archer suspected he was there quite often.

Trip sighed and threw his napkin down on the table and pushed his chair back from the table, standing. "Come here," he said as he walked behind Malcolm wrapping his arms around his shoulders and put his chin on Malcolm's shoulder. "What did I say yesterday? _Better out than in_."

Malcolm gave a watery laugh at the joke but continued crying. "I don't think this is normal," he said, patting Trip's arm.

"Well, neither is you crying," Trip shot back, sharing a look with the captain that plainly asked _how the hell do we fix this_? Malcolm started to get himself under control, rubbing his yes with his sleeve. Satisfied he wasn't about to start sobbing uncontrollably – in which case, it was going to be Captain's turn to comfort him – Trip stood up, clapping Malcolm on the shoulder as he retook his seat.

Archer took a breath, before leaning forward on his elbows, clasping his hands in front of him. "So, I had a conversation with Phlox just after we entered orbit," he said, knowing how Malcolm was going to take this and deciding to just get it over with. At least Trip would probably back him up. "I requested that he facilitate counselling sessions."

"I don't think that's necessary, sir, I would really rather address this myself." Malcolm turned defensive. He was trying to appear calm and professional, but the effect was ruined by his red eyes and the fact that he was sniffling slightly.

Trip ignored him. "Can Phlox do that?"

"He has the qualifications," Archer clarified. "He actually practiced for a few years. Malcolm, just consider it. You're not in a good place right now, this could help you make sense of things."

Malcolm was silent for a long while but finally said that he'd consider it. Pleased that Malcolm was at least entertaining the possibility, Archer smiled and went back to his breakfast. "Some serious consideration is all I ask."

"So, Geordi and I – their Chief Engineer – think we may have a way of getting us back to where we belong," Trip said, changing the subject. "If we can generate a small tachyon beam we might be able to fine tune the anomaly that brought us here and exit the cave in 2155."

"I thought we weren't allowed to bring our homework to the table," Malcolm glanced up at the Captain, the corners of his mouth turned up in a very small smile. Archer grinned, but deep down he was worried about how fast Malcolm had gone from upset, to angry, to tearful, to some semblance of normal. And he honestly didn't know if he could keep him Malcolm on the bridge if his outbursts got any worse. T'Pol had already expressed a desire to limit his duty shifts, at least to a maximum of eight hours per day.

"Well, I want to go home, so we're making an exception," Trip replied, tucking back into his pancakes. "Being so close to a warp nine engine and not being able to take it apart is damn near killing me. I don't know how much more I can take without deciding to hell with it and contaminating the timeline."

"Well, I've been stuck in sickbay and then my rather luxurious quarters." Malcolm ate a bite of his pancakes. "What's the rest of the ship like? It's like being on a cruise liner. I was speaking to some of the medical staff, did you know they have sixteen holodecks?"


	6. Eyes Up for Captain Archer

"The Temporal Cold War is a conflict between several different factions, each attempting to alter the course of history for their own benefit. The majority of the factions operate from the 31st and 32nd centuries though some are from earlier points in the timeline, such as the Sphere Builders from the 26th century. The 22nd century acted as the front lines, with several conflicts, including the Xindi incident, the Cabal conflicts, and the World War Two disturbance being directly caused by the influence of these factions. The actions of the crew of the Enterprise NX-01 effectively ended this influence in 2154 and while the outcome of the Cold War has not been ascertained with certainty, there has been a lack of noticeable influence from these factions for the last two hundred years."

Trip and Archer stared, mouths slightly agape, at Data. After leaving Malcolm in Dr. Crusher's capable hands, they'd been taken straight to the bridge, where Captain Picard had insisted on introducing Archer and Trip to entire bridge crew and giving them the cliff notes version of a tour. They marveled at the size of the bridge and the levels of information available at each station, right at its operators fingertips, and wouldn't have minded getting a thorough tour of the entire ship. If Archer wasn't worried that his and Trip's seeing or learning too much would lead to temporal contamination of their own timeline. Or if the looks of awe and all of the 'it's an honour's hadn't been making them feel very uncomfortable, Archer in particular. They were also getting the distinct impression that Picard was hoping to impress them and honestly it was getting a bit much. After cutting the bridge tour short in as polite a way as he could, Archer and Trip were taken to the observation lounge where they were joined by Data, along with Lt. Cmdr. LaForge and Counsellor Troi – an empathic half Betazoid, they were told.

Turns out the cave system they'd been exploring contained three distinct temporal anomalies, possibly due to the combination of tricaesium and tachyon particles present in those areas, at least according to Data. They could very easily just step into those areas and travel through time, it was where they were going to end up that was going to be the problem – the anomalies' fluctuations were unpredictable.

"How many of the crew were exploring the caves with you?" Riker asked. He was seated on Captain Picard's right, directly opposite Archer, with Deanna on his other side.

"Just us, nobody else felt like going spelunking," Trip answered from where he was sitting on Archer's left, between him and Data. He leaned back in his chair. "Thank God, I don't much feel like playing temporal _Where's Waldo_."

"What brought you to the planet in the first place, if you don't mind my asking?" Riker directed that at Archer.

"Shore leave," Archer replied evenly. "Crew's been cooped up too long. Any longer and Dr. Phlox will have to start treating everyone for cabin fever."

"Should've picked Risa," Trip deadpanned. "I just don't know why we didn't pick up the temporal anomalies when we scanned the planet's surface. T'Pol even scanned that cave system specifically."

"Johnathan, you mentioned the Columbia earlier, what about their crew?" Captain Picard asked. "Did any of them enter the cave system?"

"Rappelling down a hundred metre drop is the only way in or out," Archer explained. "I'd know if anyone else was in there."

"Was there no other reason you rendezvoused with the Columbia, sir?" Data asked. "It is odd that both of Earth's warp five starships were in orbit of the same planet at the same time."

Archer hesitated almost imperceptibly before replying. He shrugged it off. "Columbia was only a few lightyears away, and they were due shore leave as well. Captain Hernandez and I thought it might be nice to get the extended family together, take a few soil samples, pool our resources. Like you said, we're the only two out here. That, and I think she wanted to have Trip look at her engines." He leaned back in his chair when he finished speaking.

"Get the job done quicker, more time for a picnic," Riker grinned. "I like how you think, Captain."

"We were actually thinking this might be a nice spot for a colony, but I guess not. But we still need to know why we didn't pick up the anomalies."

"I believe I can explain that, Captain Archer," Data said. "The anomalies are being blocked by the minerals present in the rock that make up the cave system. As I had to fine tune our own sensors just to detect them, it is unlikely they would be detectable by 22nd century Earth technology. I also found reference to your visit to this planet. Apparently, it was deemed unsuitable for colonization due to the presence of the anomalies. You made the report yourself, sir." Data furrowed his brow, confused. "Will make the report –" He stopped and looked up the Captains. "I am unsure how to reference the action, sirs."

"Don't worry, Data, it doesn't compute with me either," Trip waved a hand. "But we get what you mean."

"That was a joke, sir," Data said, pleased at having recognized it. "Because I am an android and therefore –"

"Data, Data," Trip quickly cut him off, holding up his hands. "If you explain it, it's not funny anymore."

"So, anyway, it's nice to know we get home." Archer brought the conversation back to the topic at hand. "So, we know the where and the why, now we just need the how to reverse the process. The cave where we entered this time seems like our best bet."

"There's no telling what would happen if you were just waltz back into that cave. You could be sent another two hundred years into the future," Geordi pointed out. He was really trying not to stare at Trip. And Trip noticed.

Trip and Archer glanced at each other. "That might not be a bad thing," Archer told him, thoughtfully.

Trip leaned forward, leaning his elbows on the table, then added "We know the Federation gains time travel technology by at least the 29th century."

"If need be, you could go looking for someone with the ability to send you back to the 22nd century," Picard said, nodding. "I see. It is a possibility, but it sounds rather risky. There's no telling what century you could end up in, nor if you could find the necessary help. We should investigate other options available to us before trying something so desperate."

And so, they agreed on a plan: Trip would head to Engineering with Geordi and Data, while Captain Picard had insisted on giving Archer a tour. Archer smiled, and accepted the offer, with only Deanna picking up on his discomfort. _This ship is huge_, Trip had mouthed to Archer as the two of them left the observation lounge. Archer nodded, making his eyes go wide, before giving half a grin.

"Try to avoid letting on too much about what happened in the last two hundred years," he requested of Geordi and Data. "If we know what happens –"

"It might not happen," Picard finished for him. "We will take every precaution necessary to prevent anything of the sort."

They broke into their respective groups, Riker taking the bridge, and agreed to check in in an hour. Trip was right, this ship _was _huge. And there were children everywhere – or at least there seemed to be to Archer. Captain Picard was certainly determined to show his ship at its best. On the Enterprise D there were no fewer than eight schoolrooms, a large hydroponics bay, an arboretum, a bar, a well-equipped spa, a shuttle bay that could just about fit the NX-01, three sickbay wards, an impressive astrometrics lab, multiple science labs, multiple common areas where the crew could just hang out and no fewer than sixteen – _sixteen_ – holodecks.

"Every school child in the Federation is taught of your missions, Captain Archer," Picard said, as a couple of young children ran past them. "I'm sure some of the teachers will be interested in having you speak to their classes, should you be here long enough."

"Sitting through the lessons is probably enough torture, I wouldn't put them through actually listening to me." Archer stood out of the way of two passing crewmembers, giving a nod and smile of greeting. He struggled to keep the smile on his face when he noticed the two crewmembers staring over their shoulders at him.

"Nonsense, firsthand accounts of history are invaluable. I'm sure the children would more than delighted to hear of your early exploits," Picard replied, not put off by Archer's hesitancy. "Your time in the Delphic Expanse, how you convinced the Xindi Arboreals and Primates to aid us against the Reptilians was an inspired example of diplomacy."

"The Delphic Expanse was a tough year," Archer told him somberly, moving out of the way of a few passing crewmen, who also stared at Archer over their shoulders. "We lost twenty-seven crewmen, suffered heavy damage. Barely made it out."

"Which makes the feat all the more impressive. Making friends out of enemies is something that's always in the back of my mind when meeting new species," Picard smiled, as though remembering something. "Especially when first contact tends to be on the hostile side."

Archer didn't reply for a moment, then "You sound like you've read my logs closely."

"Indeed, sir. During command training we study the experiences of past Starfleet Captains, from all members of the Federation. The example of those who came before can often act as a most effective guide." Picard added quickly, "I hope you don't mind my referencing your logs, of course?"

"Their purpose is for transparency and posterity, after all," Archer replied. The honest was that yes, he did, but he felt he couldn't say it to a fellow captain. "As long as you don't get your hands on the classified ones."

Picard smiled at the attempt at humour. "Then if you don't mind my pointing out, you've never shied away from the consequences of your decisions or from pointing out the ethical and moral implications of them. It set an example of honest self-reflection in Starfleet Captains: That we must always strive to be the very best version of ourselves out here, amongst the stars, no matter the difficulties we may encounter."

"I'm glad you're getting good use out of them – I was beginning to feel like my dog was the only one listening." This was like returning to Earth from the Delphic Expanse all over again: adoring looks from people who saw him as a hero, as embodying humanity's best qualities, but none of them could possibly understand. None of them knew what that year had cost him personally. None of them seemed to care what he's done, only the end result. Picard wanted to discuss more of Captain Archer's missions, but had a gut feeling that it was best to leave it for the time being. After looking in on Lt. Reed, which took longer than Picard had anticipated seeing as the lieutenant took a sudden turn, they made their way to Main Engineering – where Trip was drooling over the warp drive, a tall vertical column, three floors high, swirling blue inside: it was truly magnificent. Archer walked over to the barrier that surrounded the warp core.

"Wow," Archer whispered, placing his hands on the barrier and gazing up at it. "What's your top speed?"

"Warp nine point eight, Captain." Trip had joined him, both of them craning their necks to see the top of the column. "Earth to Vulcan in two days."

"We normally cruise along at about warp six or seven, don't want to burn her out," Geordi told them. "But we can push it if we have to. Come take a look at this, sirs, we think we may have something."


	7. Tea?

The bell to the ready-room door shook Picard out of his reverie. Putting down the PADD he was reading he bid his visitor enter, and the doors opened to reveal Counsellor Troi.

"Ah, Counsellor, have a seat." He strode over to the replicator. "Tea; earl grey; hot. And…?"

"The same, please, Captain," Deanna requested. They seated themselves comfortably on Captain Picard's couch as the Captain asked the Counsellor's opinion on Captain Archer.

"He's very approachable," Deanna said. "As is Cmdr. Tucker. Confident yet humble. A little bit high strung and strangely I'm getting a lot of guilt from him."

"Yes, I brought up the Xindi mission during the tour," said Captain Picard, taking a sip of tea. "I was rereading his logs when you came in; he made some unethical calls while in the Delphic Expanse, ones that would certainly put an end to Starfleet officer's career nowadays. But I would hate to think that he's the kind of man to claim that the end justifies the means."

"His actions did save Earth and humanity from total destruction," Deanna pointed out. "The Xindi would have completely wiped us out."

"Nor did they have any assistance in the Expanse, no to mention their ship was falling apart," Captain Picard brought his tea to his lips, frowning when he realised it was a little too hot. He put it to one side. "And he managed to create an alliance with the Xindi that lasts to this day. It's hardly a clear-cut situation. Perhaps I'm too eager to excuse the greatest explorer of the 22nd century. They do say to never meet your heroes."

"Has he disappointed you yet?" Deanna asked teasingly, knowing the answer.

Picard grinned, seeming as excited as a school boy. "Not in the slightest. He seemed rather excited at the prospect of so many different species and cultures serving on the same ship: I don't think he's seen half the species that make up the crew before. He was so curious, but I just couldn't answer his questions for fear of contaminating the timeline. But I'm still interested in your opinion, Counsellor. I interrupted you, I apologise."

"Well," Deanna put her tea down, before turning back to the Captain. "I believe Captain Archer may have lied earlier, in the briefing."

"Lied?" Picard furrowed his brow. "About what?"

"About why they came to this planet," Deanna explained. "Perhaps 'lie' is too strong a word, but he was definitely holding something back. And when Cmdr. Riker asked about it, I felt a surge of nervousness from Cmdr. Tucker. And he was definitely lying about the Columbia; there was no way it just happened to be in the same system at the same time and they're not here – weren't here – for soil samples. They have something to hide, Captain, I just don't know what it is."

Picard stood up and paced in front of desk. "What about Lt. Reed, what have you sensed from him?"

"He's very closed, but I can feel fear from him," Deanna said. She gazed at the spot where Picard had been sitting but not truly seeing it, trying to pick Lt. Reed out amongst the rest of the ship's complement. "He's uncomfortable, more than the other two he wants to go home. And I'm getting the sense that his shipmates want to keep him away from the rest of us as much as possible."

"Because of what he might tell us?"

"No, it's more protective than that."

Picard turned contemplative. "They may have very good reasons for whatever it is they are hiding form us."

"A definite possibility," Deanna agreed. "Or all three could be lying to us for an unknown reason."

"We'll explore everything," Picard insisted. "I know Dr. Crusher confirmed their identities, but we can't rule out something that could have deceive Dr. Crusher's equipment. I'll continue looking over the NX-01's logs, see what I can find. I'll have time tonight." Picard sat back down at his desk, clearly disappointed. "Captain Archer has turned down my dinner invitation. Thanked me profusely but said he would appreciate an early night."

"I'm sure you'll have time to pick Captain Archer's brain tomorrow, Captain," Deanna smiled, standing. "If that is his real name."

"I'd would've had the time today, if it wasn't for Captain Archer insisting on helping in Engineering. I think he may be avoiding me." He sighed and shook his head, taking up the PADD he'd been reading when Deanna came in. "Perhaps he is hiding something. I'll see you tomorrow, Counsellor. And I would appreciate it if you could keep an eye on our guests: we can't risk getting starstruck and missing whatever it is they're really up to."


	8. Deanna's Curiosity

The sickbay doors hissed open as he approached them. Malcolm entered and after a quick look around made straight for Dr. Crusher's office, where she was pouring over a PADD. She put it to one side when he knocked and beckoned him in.

"You wanted to see me, Doctor?"

"Yes, have a seat, lieutenant. How are you feeling today?" She gave him a friendly smile that did little to ease his anxiety.

"Fine, ma'am," Malcolm replied as he sat down, managing not to fidget. The doctor came to the other side of her desk and started to examine Malcolm with a tricorder, which didn't much help either. "Was there something specific you needed to speak with me about or just a general check-up?"

"Both, actually. Okay, so, you still have a slight fever, but I can give you something for that. Now, I've been going over your blood work and found something I needed clarification on," Dr. Crusher said, moving to sit behind her desk. "There were trace elements of a paralytic agent in your blood stream. Based on the decay rate, I'd say you were exposed to it two to three weeks ago. Did you have any surgery recently?"

"No, I don't –" Malcolm shut his mouth, realization dawning, and changed track. "I was injured a couple of weeks ago, needed treatment. Dr. Phlox must have given me something, I wouldn't know what. Apologies, Doctor."

Dr. Crusher started typing at her computer. "If you could give me the exact date, I can verify the agent and procedure."

"I don't see why that's strictly necessary, I'll be under the care of Dr. Phlox again quite soon. No need to trouble yourself," Malcolm insisted.

Dr. Crusher leaned forward on her desk, interlacing her fingers. "When I discharged you last night, I told you the toxin was lingering in your system; I believe it's because of the trace amounts of the paralytic agent. I'd prefer to neutralize them both, and for that I'd need to know the identity of the agent."

"Really, Doctor, it's a slight fever. They'll both be out of my system soon," Malcolm tried to insist. "Like I said: don't trouble yourself."

"Lieutenant –"

"If that's all Doctor," Malcom stood up abruptly. "I should be assisting Captain Archer and Cmdr. Tucker in Engineering."

That startled Dr. Crusher. "Is that where you've spent the morning?" she asked, brushing her surprise aside. "I would imagine that's Cmdr. Tucker's domain."

"It is, ma'am," Malcolm said, "But I do have some experience with engineering, and the Captain significantly more so. Though mine is, admittedly, focused on weapons systems. I'm mostly just handing them tools." He forced a small smile onto his face. God, he desperately wanted out of here.

"Well, make sure you take some time to rest, you're still not at a hundred percent."

"I will, ma'am. Thank you for your diligence."

"Wait, Lieutenant –" Without being dismissed Malcolm practically flew out of the room, nearly knocking into Deanna as she entered sickbay. She jumped out of the way, waving off his apology with a smile and continuing into Beverly's office.

"He's certainly in a hurry," Deanna remarked. "What did you say to him; he couldn't _wait_ to get out of here. Ready for lunch Beverly?"

"Just a minute, Deanna," Beverly said, deciding that his fever wasn't high, and it would be okay if she grabbed him later. She was currently attempting to bring up Lt. Reed's medical records. They were buried in the system due to their age, but they were there somewhere. "Do you know what date our guests came from? Lt. Reed wasn't exactly forthcoming with the information."

"He is rather closed off," Deanna pointed out, coming around to look at the screen over Beverly's shoulder. "But I can't imagine why he wouldn't give you the date. Why do you need it?"

"There's something in his blood stream that's preventing me from fully clearing the toxin, I only got the results back this morning. He says it was something Dr. Phlox gave him, but he doesn't know what it was and won't tell me when it was administered." Beverly frowned. "I can't think why."

"Unless he's lying, and it was recreational. And I think the date is November eighteenth, 2155," Deanna told her. "Do you have it?"

"It'll take a while, the records are over two hundred years old," Beverly said, standing up. "I'll leave the computer search over lunch. Ten Forward?"

"What do you think of our guests?" Beverly asked Deanna as they left sickbay together.

"I'm not quite sure yet," Deanna replied. "There was a moment yesterday, in the observation lounge. Will asked Captain Archer what brought him to the planet, and I sensed deception from him. Not quite like he was lying, but he certainly wasn't telling the whole truth. Even Cmdr. Tucker became very tense, as though he was afraid of being confronted. And just there, with Lt. Reed: he was so uncomfortable, panicked almost." They'd reached the turbolift and had entered. "Deck ten. It was like he was afraid of getting caught in a lie. He's bordering on emotionally unstable in fact, every time I've been near him. And you remember yesterday evening, of course."

"You mean that panic attack?"

"Yes," Deanna nodded. The exited the turbolift, continuing down the corridor towards Ten Forward.

"That was very strange. But Captain Archer managed to calm him down in a few minutes," Beverly lowered her voice as they passed a couple of operations personnel at the entrance to the bar. "People can be emotional when they're sick, I'm not familiar with that strain and we don't know the full effects of the bacterium's toxin on the human body."

Deanna disagreed. "And there's another thing: both Captain Archer and Cmdr. Tucker are highly protective of him. They're incredibly worried about him, it was palpable when Data asked after Lt. Reed. And what's more, I think this overprotectiveness is new."

"New? Why would you say that?" Beverly asked as they sat down.

"It just doesn't feel natural for them. I suspect it's to do with the lieutenant's present emotional state. As he left your office, I swear, it was like some kind of storm was developing. I mentioned the deception I was sensing to Captain Picard, he's not too concerned – neither am I, just mystified. But he did ask me to keep an eye out, make sure we're not being tricked somehow."

"It's definitely them, those DNA results could not have been faked. I _triple_ checked them. Last night I asked _Data_ to perform an analysis on my software and hardware. The answers we want will probably be in his file," Beverly said, then sighed, rolling her eyes. "If Starfleet ever finds it. But Deanna," she indicated over Deanna's shoulder with her chin. "Now may be your chance to see all three together."

Deanna turned around, and lo and behold their guests had just entered Ten Forward with Geordi. He raised a hand in greeting when he saw Beverly and Deanna, who waved them over.

"Grab that table," Beverly called, pointing to a larger t larger table to Geordi's left as he started to make his way over. He did as he was bid, putting the PADD he was holding down on the table and sitting down. Beverly and Deanna joined them, Cmdr. Tucker holding Beverly's chair out for her while Lt. Reed, almost shyly, helped Deanna.

"Allow me, ma'am," Cmdr. Tucker smiled brightly at Beverly. "May I get you something at the bar?"

"I'd love an ice-tea, thank you Commander," Beverly said, returning the smile.

"Way to make me look bad," Geordi laughed, standing. "I'll give you a hand. What's everyone feel like? No, no, don't worry about it Malcolm, I got it. What'll you have?" Lt. Reed started to offer to help instead and got half out of his chair, before Geordi waved him back down.

It ended up being ice-teas all around, which Cmdr. Tucker and Geordi brought over a few minutes later, a server following them soon after. Once the server left, Beverly informed Lt. Reed that she needed to see him in sickbay after lunch – he'd run out without his shot – and then they chatted until the food came, with Captain Archer saying how impressed he was with the ship. The Federation, their continuing mission of exploration, it was everything he could have possibly hoped for and more. In fact, the more he saw of the ship, the diverse species that made up the crew, the more excited he became for what the future held.

Cmdr. Tucker raised his glass of ice-tea. "Kol-Ut-Shan," he said. "Infinite diversity, in infinite combinations."

"I'll drink to that," Geordi said, clinking his glass with Cmdr. Tucker.

Captain Archer laughed. "Trip's been learning Vulcan. T'Pol said he's getting pretty good."

"Yeah, now I only sound like a human trying to speak Vulcan, instead of a very southern American male trying to mangle Vulcan." He took a sip of his tea. "I think it was compliment. Comes in handy though, Hoshi and I managed to plan Travis's – our helmsman – birthday party right on the bridge in front of him."

"I hope he enjoyed it," Deanna said, laughingly, as a server placed her food in front of her. "Thank you."

"He was surprised at any rate," Captain Archer told her, picking up a French fry. "Eighty-three is a funny number – small enough that I have to know the crew's birthdays, but large enough that the whole crew can't have a full-blown party every time."

"Why did Travis get the honour?" Beverly asked, taking up her knife and fork and starting to cut her fish. Cmdr. Tucker wordlessly offered her and Deanna some of his French fries from where he was sitting directly next to Beverly and opposite the Captain.

"He turned thirty," Captain Archer explained. "Normally he would only have gotten a cake."

"And the Birthday Person gets to pick the movie for movie night," Cmdr. Tucker said, primly.

"You know, I've only ever seen four movies, in my _life_," Geordi said, stirring his soup. "All of them animated Disney movies. When my mom was stationed away from my dad and needed to distract my sister and I when the holodeck was down, she would put on a movie on one of the screens. Aladdin was my favourite, I swear I had that on repeat for a full month. Might have been a year."

"You could see a few more, Anna, one of my medical staff turns one of the holodecks into a 21st century movie theatre once a month," Beverly pointed out.

"Well, now I need to judge your taste in movies," Cmdr. Tucker replied, adopting a fake serious expression. "Lay 'em on me, I'll give you my professional opinion."

"Your taste in movies is pretty eclectic, Trip, I don't think they could disappoint you," Captain Archer pointed out. "I'm partial to Moana, if I'm being honest. If we're still talking about Disney movies."

"What about you, Lieutenant?" Deanna directed her question at Lt. Reed sitting next to her, who'd been pretty silent the entire time, quietly nibbling on his burger and French fries. He'd ordered the same thing as the Captain. Just less ketchup.

Lt. Reed swallowed his mouthful of burger. "My favourite Disney movie," he said. Deanna could feel that he was uncomfortable with the attention. He thought for a moment. "Has to be Snow White."

"Why Snow White?" Deanna asked. "That was one of the earliest, if not the earliest, if I'm not mistaken. Hardly a piece of feminist film, given the time period." Even if Deanna couldn't sense the lieutenant's discomfort at suddenly being the centre of attention, the pink tinge creeping up his neck was giving him away.

"See, that's not fair," Cmdr. Tucker interjected. There it was: that overprotectiveness Deanna had sensed yesterday when Lt. Reed had been brought up in discussion in the observation lounge. She could feel it coming from the Captain as well, in addition to irritation. "You can't judge 20th and 21st century entertainment by today's standards – or you know what I mean, 22nd/24th century standards. Acknowledge something's problematic and why, admit we can't make stuff like that anymore, enjoy it, move on."

"Aren't you going to defend your movie, lieutenant?" Deanna pressed him. She could feel the Captain's annoyance growing in conjunction with Lt. Reed's upset. When they'd entered Ten Forward she'd sensed that he was much calmer than when he'd blasted past her in his haste to get out of Beverly's office but now, it seemed that anxiety and fear was creeping up on him again.

"Well, no, I suppose it's not exactly feminist," Lt. Reed conceded. "But I am fond of the classics."

"Is it because of _Hi-ho-hi-ho_?" Cmdr. Tucker asked. Geordi started to whistle the first few notes of the song and the commander and lieutenant joined in. "'_With a shovel and a pick and walking stick'"_

"The music is hands down the best part of all of those movies," Geordi stated, not realizing he was rescuing Lt. Reed from further scrutiny from Deanna. "_The Circle of Life_ is my song. Gets me right here, every time." He put his hand over his heart. "I have to ask my dad, but I think it watched it more than Aladdin."

"There was one I saw when I was very young, the one with the ice princess. She accidentally caused the land to freeze over, or something like that," Beverly said. "I can't remember the name, and I must have seen it I don't even know how many times! But, oh, I loved the music."

"Anna would probably know what you're talking about," Geordi pointed out. "She could screen it next time."

"I'll make a point to ask her," Beverly replied. "Well, anyway, how's the research coming? Not that I'm not enjoying the company, but will you be leaving us soon?"

"Something wrong, Captain?" Deanna asked. She'd gotten a feeling of She'd gotten a feeling of mild annoyance from him at the question from Beverly.

The Captain looked bemused. "No, nothing's wrong. Why do you ask?"

"You didn't appreciate being asked how your work in Engineering is progressing. Apologies, Captain, I was just curious as to why you would feel that way. Is it not going well?"

"The Captain doesn't like shop talk when we're eating," Cmdr. Tucker explained, smiling. "Woe betide you if you bring a duty roster to breakfast."

Lt. Reed looked up and across at Cmdr. Tucker, his head cocked to one side, and dramatically dropped his hand onto the table. "I did that _once_," he protested.

Captain Archer laughed. Both Beverly and Deanna liked him and Cmdr. Tucker: they were easy to talk to, good natured and so far, always seemed ready to smile. She did, however, get the impression that they were going out of their way to keep the conversation light and airy and relaxed, and for the most part they were doing a good job. Lt. Reed was another story, and she didn't think he'd relaxed once since coming on board. Deanna was beginning to think that whatever she was sensing from them was simply a private matter and nothing for Captain Picard to worry about. She was still going to have a look over their records later, however, just to make sure.

"If you never switch off, you burn out," Captain Archer explained. He raised his glass. "Meal times were sacred in the Archer household." He took a sip of his ice-tea.

"Are old stories, okay, sir?" Geordi asked, grinning as he pushed his empty soup bowl to one side to lean one arm on the table. "Because I would really like to hear about your first warp two flight."

"Two point five," Cmdr. Tucker bragged. "I told you, sir – it was the intermix."

"I'd like to hear about the planet with the humans that had been abducted from the Ancient American West," Deanna suggested eagerly. "I love that time period. I often go with Lt. Worf's son, Alexander, to the holodeck to play out a scenario."

"If our guests are taking requests, I for one would like to hear how Lt. Reed came to write the security protocols on the NX-01." Worf had appeared over Geordi's shoulder with Will. "The fact that they were all written while in deep space is intriguing. I would enjoy hearing about the situations that helped you shape each protocol and why they were not already in place before you left dry dock."

Lt. Reed turned rather bashful, but he seemed pleased at the interest. "I'd love to, Lieutenant, but perhaps later; I fear everyone else would find it terribly boring." He glanced around the table, quickly looking away when he made eye contact with Deanna.

"Perhaps at dinner tonight, Captain Picard has organised a reception with the senior staff," Will said, smiling, putting his foot up on the raise dais the table was situated on and placing a hand on his knee. "The Captain was very disappointed you turned down his dinner invitation down last night, Captain Archer, he's a great student of archaeology and history."

"Archaeology? I'm not that old," Captain Archer replied, shrugging. "Please give my apologies to your Captain, Commander, we had a long day yesterday." Another lie. "But we would be delighted to join the Captain tonight." That was half true.

Deanna whipped her head around to look at Lt. Reed. He was staring at Will, teeth clenched and there was a visible tick in his jaw. His emotions were surging, and Deanna didn't think he could contain them for much longer. She tried to make eye contact with Cmdr. Tucker, but he was trying to do the same to Lt. Reed, to no avail.

"Excellent, it'll be here at twenty hundred hours," Will said, clapping his hands together, oblivious. Whatever he was about to say next was cut off by Lt. Reed standing abruptly and swiftly headed for the exit to the left of the bar, head down.

"Was it something I said, lieutenant?" Will asked, looking after Lt. Reed, annoyance lacing his tone. "Lieutenant?" Deanna understood Will's frustration. A junior officer not excusing himself to his superiors? A member of this Enterprise's crew would be brought up for insubordination.

"No offence intended, Commander, he's still a bit under the weather," Captain Archer explained. He made eye contact with Cmdr. Tucker and imperceptibly jerked his head to the side, which Cmdr. Tucker evidently took to mean to follow Lt. Reed. The Captain seemed amiable, but there was a current of disturbance underneath.

"If you'll excuse me," Cmdr. Tucker stood, shooting a subtle look out of the corner of his eye at Will, and followed the lieutenant out.

"Got time for quick cup of coffee, Commander?" Captain Archer asked, smiling that did not reach his eyes drawing Will's attention back to him. "We were going to head back to Main Engineering in about fifteen minutes, Data's kindly agreed to stay behind and run a few diagnostics on the particle emitter while we grabbed a bite."

"Data's good like that," Will said, glancing over his shoulder. He called out to a server asking for a cup of coffee and a glass prune juice for Worf, taking the vacant seat between Beverly and Geordi, while Worf took Lt. Reed's on the opposite side.

"Deanna just asked about a planet we came across that was an _exact replica_ of the Ancient American West, now stop me if you've heard this one before…"

* * *

"I don't understand what Reed's problem is," Will said, sounding pretty peeved, watching as Captain Archer and Geordi left Ten Forward. "Or why his CO is covering for him."

"Perhaps he finds you intimidating," Worf suggested. "Lt. Reed seems easily frightened, if our first encounter is anything to go by. A poor attribute for a Tactical Officer."

"I'm not talking about just now, but yesterday evening as well," Will pointed out, almost snapping. "He couldn't wait for me get out of sickbay. I brushed it off, but earlier, I saw him coming out of a turbolift – he saw me and turned around; went _righ_t back in to the turbolift. Same thing happened last night: he saw me coming down the corridor, turned right around."

"He was very ill yesterday, I don't think you can judge him on that," Deanna insisted. "And from what I was feeling from him just now, I don't think he's quite recovered."

"That's no excuse, he's a Starfleet officer," Will stated." He should behave like one; show some respect."

"He is respectful, he just doesn't like you," Beverly teased. She sighed and rolled her eyes when Will didn't lighten up. "You do realise he could have been running out to throw up in the bathroom, don't you?"

"Then he should make his excuse and offer an apology," Worf said. "There is no excuse for rudeness."

Will was not conciliated. He huffed. "I agree." He looked around, lowering his voice. "And I spoke to Captain Picard this morning: he said you thought they were lying about why they're in this sector."

"They're not being entirely truthful: could be something, could be nothing," Deanna clarified, shrugging. "We're going to review their medical records, and the Captain said he was reviewing Captain Archer's logs. If there's something to find, we'll find it, but honestly, Will, I'm being to think there's not."

"I have restricted their access to all essential systems, as well as historical records after October 2155," Worf told them. "Just as a precaution."

"Probably for the best." Will leaned forward, resting his arms on the table. "Even if it turns out we can trust them, that would reduce the risk of temporal contamination."

"'Even if we can trust them'?" Beverly was mildly incredulously. "Yesterday you were about to ask for their autographs, and now because Lt. Reed is acting a bit strange towards you, you think they're a threat!"

"What are you implying?" Will asked, getting even more irritated.

"I'm not implying anything," Beverly responded innocently.

"She's flat out saying your ego's been bruised," Deanna finished for her, draining the last of her ice-tea. "And I concur."

"Ego? You don't find his behaviour inappropriate?" It was Will's turn to be incredulous.

"Perhaps, but as he's not a member of this crew, or even from this time, I don't see what business it is of ours," Deanna said. "Besides, they'll be gone in a couple of days."

"Or they're imposters, which would explain Lt. Reed's odd behaviour, especially if he's an unwilling participant in the charade," Worf proposed. "It would explain why he did not seem eager to discuss his security protocols with me."

"He seemed pretty pleased to me," Beverly said. "Just a little shy. Deanna, back me up."

"I concur, he was definitely pleased at the interest. You can catch him tonight, I'm sure he'll be more than happy to discuss them with you."

"Hm." Will downed the last dregs of his coffee. They all stood and left Ten Forward together, going their separate ways at the turbolift.

"Let's hope Lt. Reed remembers his manners."


	9. Cocoa Makes Everything Better

His first thought was that he was going into anaphylactic shock. His throat was closing up; there was a pain in his chest; he was getting pins and needles in his hands and face; his vision was distorting as though he was looking through a fish-eye lens and he had an overwhelming urge to _go_ – to get out of here, and he had to fight a strange compulsion to throw his plate in Cmdr. Riker's face.

Malcolm stood up abruptly and left the table, left Ten Forward. He stopped outside the door and tried to take a deep breath, but he couldn't quite get enough air into his lungs. Where did he go now? He must have left through the opposite door, because he didn't recognize the corridor. _Well done, Malcolm, you've only gone and gotten yourself lost_. He couldn't go back in there and out the proper door, not when he was shaking and in the middle of a panic attack, because he realised what was going on as soon as left the bar. No, the only way was forward. But where was that going to take him? He didn't really fancy wandering around a ship this size. He didn't know what to do, he was frozen, incapable of making a decision. He jumped when someone put a hand on his shoulder.

"Easy, Lieutenant," the woman said, holding her hands up in a 'whoa' gesture. "You look a little lost," she stated, cocking her head to the side. "Are you alright?"

"Malcolm." Trip had come after him. He nodded at the woman. "Hey."

"You know, your friend doesn't look so hot."

"Uh, yeah, thanks, I got it."

"My office is in there, if you want some privacy." The woman pointed off to the side. Trip weighed up his options: either try and get Malcolm back to his quarters in this condition, and somehow avoid a lot of staring; or take this woman's offer and get Malcolm calmed down as soon as possible. Trip decided on the latter.

"In here, Malcolm." Trip steered him into the office and sat him at the desk. The woman had shut the door behind them and gone back into the bar. Trip crouched in from Malcolm, who was looking around the office, trying to find something to focus on. He could feel himself shaking and didn't think he could stand if tried to. He was trying to get his breathing under control but still couldn't take a deep enough breath; he was starting to hyperventilate.

"You're okay, you're okay," Trip said as calmly and evenly as possible, as he rubbed Malcolm's arm. "Come back to me buddy; Can you look at me? Malcolm?" Malcolm brought his eyes to Trip's. "Good, good. Breathe, slowly, four seconds in, six seconds out, great work buddy, and again –" Trip breathed in and out with Malcolm, slowly, trying to get his shaky breathing under control. He gently took one of Malcolm's hands in both of this own, holding it palm up. He looked Malcolm dead in the eye. "We're going to try something; I want you to close your eyes, keep breathing, but keep them closed." Malcolm hesitated, but complied after a moment. Trip placed both of his thumbs on Malcolm's palm, and pressed his fingers onto the back of his wrist. "Imagine you're in a forest, okay, can you see it? The trees, leaves overhead, maybe some flowers at the base; got it in your mind's eye?" Malcolm nodded. Trip could see him still violently shaking. "Imagine there's a high wind, branches are whipping everywhere, leaves are kicking up from the ground; it's as turbulent as you feel right now." Trip shifted his grip, pressing into Malcolm's palm. "Deep breath in, and as you breathe out, imagine the wind is dying down. Good, and again."

Trip continued for about another two minutes or so, alternating where he applied pressure based on Malcolm's breathing. Once it returned to normal and the trembling had subsided somewhat, Trip slowly released Malcolm's hand, moving to grab Malcolm's shoulders, who kept his eyes closed. "Take another few deep breaths, and open your eyes whenever you feel like it." Malcolm opened his eyes immediately, however. Trip stood, his knees creaking from being crouched down for so long, and sat on the edge of the white desk. "How'd you feel now?"

"Better," Malcolm murmured. He was still quaking.

"So, that was neuro-pressure," Trip explained, lightly. "Think T'Pol would be proud of me?" Malcolm didn't reply to the joke. He was too busy trying to stop the pressure from building behind his eyes. He bit his lower lip, breathing heavily through his nose and scrunched up his pants' leg in his fists, anything to stop what was coming. Trip could see the tears welling up in Malcolm's eyes, and waited –

A sob escaped, along with a couple of tears. A moment later they were streaming down his cheeks. "Second time today," he said wetly, wiping his nose on his sleeve.

"Yeah, but who's counting?" Trip countered. He put a hand on the back of Malcolm's head. "So, maybe," he started slowly, as Malcolm wiped his face. "When we get back to our own ship, I could ask T'Pol to give you a few neuro-pressure sessions? Wha'd'ya think?"

"So everyone can know I'm a mess?"

"You're not a mess." Malcolm looked up at him, sniffling, face wet, eyes red and puffy. "Okay, you're a bit of a mess. But the relaxation techniques could help." Trip hesitated. "And so could talking to Phlox."

"A messy headcase."

It was so low that Trip almost missed it. He sighed. "There is nothing wrong with needing a little help. Why don't you want to speak to someone? Come on, tell me." He grabbed Malcolm's shoulder and gave him a gentle shake.

"When we get back to Earth, and after everyone's given their statements to the prosecution, you're going to leave me behind."

"What?" Trip was completely taken aback. Whatever he'd been expecting, it wasn't that.

"An Armoury Officer incapable of keeping his emotions in check has no place on the bridge," Malcolm explained. Humiliation had already replaced the panic he'd been feeling a few moments ago, filling up that space in his chest and settling in his stomach. Trip wasn't going to able to get rid of that so easily. "The Captain should be considering replacements."

A flash of indecision crossed Trip's face before he took a deep breath, and decided 'screw it'. "I shouldn't be telling you this," he began, looking slightly pained. "But the Captain and T'Pol have been... double checking all your work."

He should have been expecting it, he'd just suggested it himself, but it was still like being punched in the gut. Malcolm was almost as devastated as if Trip had told him the Captain had _already _selected a replacement. He swallowed the lump in his throat and drew himself up a little bit. If he was going to lose his position, he was going to be dignified about it. "Lt. Kim would be –"

"Hey, I said they're checking your homework, not looking for someone else to do it for you," Trip cut him off. "And the Captain said you could be a bit less snappy with your team, but other than that your performance hasn't slipped. T'Pol said it's more than adequate, which is high praise coming from her. I admit, she does want to limit your duty shifts so you can get enough rest – but only to help you recover, not permanently get rid of you. Now look at me. Malcolm." Malcolm turned his gaze up. Trip put a bit more intensity behind what he was going to say next. "When we finish locking that bastard up, and we're leaving orbit, you will be on that bridge, at your station, because we are not leaving you behind. Understood, Lieutenant?"

Malcolm swallowed back a fresh wave of tears. "Understood, sir."

Trip was about to continue but the door opened, and the office's owner returned. She held up a glass cup by the metal holder, cocoa topped with cream and what looked like mini-marshmallows.

"Brought you some hot chocolate," she said, handing it to Malcolm.

"Hot chocolate?" He glanced at the cup as he took it, before looking back at the woman. She was little older than Malcolm, wearing a hat that kind of reminded Malcolm of a graduation cap, but bigger, the top was circular, and it was very purple. Her matching dress was flowing and came just down to her knees, revealing leggings, also purple. The song 'One Eyed, One Horned, Flying Purple People Eater' started playing in his head without Malcolm's permission.

"Well, yeah," she shrugged. "You can add too much milk to a cup of tea; you can add too much sugar to a cup of coffee; but no matter how you like your cocoa, you're going to enjoy it no matter how I've prepared it." She shrugged again. "It's cocoa."

"That's very kind of you, thank you," Trip said, moving his hand to Malcolm's shoulder. He realised that this was her office, but he felt irritated at the interruption.

"Yes, thank you," Malcolm reiterated, taking a sip of his cocoa.

"My name's Guinan," she told them.

"Cmdr. Charles Tucker III, Lt. Malcolm Reed. It's nice to meet you Guinan," Trip held out a hand that Guinan took. "You can call me Trip. And thank you for the use of your office."

"No problem," she replied, then tutted when she looked at back Malcolm. "You're just like my daughter," Guinan told Malcolm, as she walked over to a set of drawers. She returned with a box, which she handed to Malcolm. "She doesn't know how to use a tissue either." She smiled down at Malcolm, clasping her hands in front. "That was joke, Lieutenant. You're meant to laugh at them. You do remember how to laugh?"

Malcolm managed a watery smile. He pulled a couple of tissues out of the box and as quietly as he could manage, started to clean up his face.

"You run the bar?" Trip started trying to make small talk. "Because I had the pan-fried cuttlefish earlier, and I'd appreciate if you could pass my compliments on to your replicator."

"I'll be sure to tell him," Guinan replied. "Clarence always appreciates compliments."

"You named your replicator Clarence?" Trip asked, slightly taken aback.

"Of course," Guinan grinned. "You're an engineer, right? Surely, you've named an engine or two in your time."

"Sure: Named our warp engine Delilah."

"I've never once in four years heard you call the warp engine 'Delilah'."

"I don't tell you everything."

"There's a smile," Guinan grinned. "You do remember."

Malcolm didn't know how he felt about this woman. She was a stranger, but the thing was, he was oddly drawn to her. He wanted to get out of here and collapse onto a bed, but he also wanted to keep this conversation going and see where it went. Trip made the decision for him, however.

"We should be getting out of your hair, thank you again for letting us use your office." Trip stood up from where he was perched on the desk, Malcolm following suit. "Really do appreciate it."

"Any time," Guinan said, smiling pleasantly as she stood to side, so they could pass. "I hope to see you tonight. At the reception," she clarified at Malcolm's inquiring look. "It'll be here at eight sharp."

"Looking forward to it." Trip returned the smile, practically pushing Malcolm out in front of him. "We'll see you tonight." He waited until they were in a turbolift, heading to deck nine, before speaking again. "She was kind of weird, don't you think?"

Malcolm shrugged, still holding his hot chocolate. "I liked her."

* * *

"That was one hell of a panic attack."

It was after lunch and Deanna had joined Beverly back in sickbay. They were sitting on either side of Beverly's desk, the computer screen between them. Deanna had been impressed with how Captain Archer had managed to smooth things over with Will, though was disappointed that it seemed to have only lasted while the Captain was there. Neither Lt. Reed nor Cmdr. Tucker had returned to the table.

"I still don't know why you didn't go after him."

"Because, Beverly, he would not have welcomed my presence. I intimidate him – he doesn't like the thought of me probing his mind. Besides, Cmdr. Tucker had it covered."

Beverly didn't reply, immersed in her computer. "He said it was three weeks ago, so end of October, beginning of November… There was a series of sickbay visits at the start of the month, starting on the first. Nothing in October." Beverly opened a file from the first of November. Her jaw dropped. "Oh God…"

_Lt. Malcolm Reed, Armoury Officer on board, was brought in to sickbay by Captain Johnathan Archer at oh eight hundred twenty-five hours. Lt. Reed was subdued and the reason for the visit was provided by Captain Archer. The Captain found the Lieutenant in his quarters, suffering from widespread muscle weakness. The Lieutenant declined to offer an explanation for his symptoms. On examination muscle tone and power was decreased in all limbs and Lt. Reed was slurring his words slightly. Respiration was mildly depressed, and pupillary response was decreased. Toxicology report revealed very trace amounts of alcohol, well within acceptable amounts for duty, and the presence of a derivative of gamma hydroserotonamine butyric acid. Apart from use as a muscle relaxant during surgery, the only other known use of this compound is as a 'date-rape' drug. Lt. Reed shut down when questioned as to how the drug came to be in his system and refused a full physical examination. The Captain has been notified of the implications of this finding._

"Pull up the Captain's logs from that date," Deanna said, appalled at what she'd just read. Beverly complied and played the log. Captain Archer's taut voice played over the speakers. Deanna thought she could detect barely suppressed rage.

_"Captain's log, November first, 2155. We've had a disturbing event take place on board and I'd like this log to serve as both record and my statement for the prosecution, should there eventually be a trial. My knowledge of the incident is as follows: After being informed that Lt. Malcolm Reed had failed to show up for his duty shift at oh seven hundred thirty hours, I sent Ensign Philips to check his quarters; as the Ensign reported back that Lt. Reed appeared intoxicated, I felt it necessary to check for myself as his Commanding Officer. I did indeed find Lt. Reed in his quarters, having difficulty dressing himself, having been woken by Ensign Philips. It was apparent that he was not intoxicated, though he was slurring his words and appeared clumsy, hence the confusion. I escorted the Lieutenant to sickbay and left him in the hands of Dr. Phlox. This was at oh eight hundred twenty hours. At oh nine thirty, Dr. Phlox summoned me to sickbay and delivered the news that Lt. Reed had a 'date-rape' drug in his blood stream. The Lieutenant initially refused to answer as to how the drug came to be in his system, though did not disagree with the suggestion that he was sexually assaulted the previous night, October thirty-first. He eventually confessed to Cmdr. Tucker that this was indeed the case, though he has yet to reveal the identity of his attacker and will not consent to a rectal exam, so Dr. Phlox cannot retrieve his attacker's DNA. When pressed as to their identity, Cmdr. Tucker claims Lt. Reed became very agitated, and begged for the whole thing to be dropped. He was worried about not being believed and angering his attacker."_

There was pause in the log before Captain Archer continued. _"Cmdr. Tucker saw Lt. Reed leave the Halloween Party being thrown in the mess hall last night at approximately twenty-one thirty with a member of the crew of the Columbia. This has been corroborated by Ensign Sato and Cmdr. T'Pol, and the search for other witnesses has begun. I have yet to report this incident to Starfleet, as I feel without Lt. Reed identifying his attacker this would be premature. We are scheduled to finish analysis of the red giant tomorrow morning, at which point we were to bid goodbye to the Columbia. I have spoken to Captain Hernandez and we have both agreed to delay our departure from this region_ _of space until we can sort this out. Lt. Reed has been discharged from sickbay and has been put on sick leave until the drug is fully out of his system, which Dr. Phlox claims may take several days. I will speak again with both of them in the morning. End log."_

Beverly pulled up the specs on gamma hydroserotonamine butyric acid. They read that it had stopped being used for surgical procedures once cortical stimulators became common place about one hundred years ago. It was always used in conjunction with a sedative, as it's only function was as a muscle relaxant. There were some mild psychotropic effects, mainly lightheadedness and mild confusion, but other than that, the patient – the _victim_ – would have been completely aware of what was going on – just unable to move. "Let me see if I can pull up later logs…"


	10. That God Damn Cave

"Alright, which one of you keeps running away from Dr. Crusher before she gives you this?"

"Hello Anna." Data turned around from the console he was reading to see Dr. Dettmer holding up a hypospray and looking pointedly at Malcolm. "I believe you are referring to Lt. Reed."

"That is indeed me," Malcolm said, straightening up from the device he was bent over. He handed Archer a laser-spanner before coming over to the Doctor. He'd been assisting Archer and Trip assist Geordi and Data, and honestly felt like the most useless person in the room. The fact that the Captain had told him twice that it was okay if he wanted to return to his quarters and rest was not helping matters. Small mercies that Trip hadn't had the time to tell him about the panic attack yet, but it was only a matter of time. Trip had made him lie down for an hour afterwards, threatening to actually tuck him in if he didn't promise he was going to rest. Malcolm had insisted that he was fine, but that had only made Trip to pull rank on him. So, he'd wound up lying down to take a thirty minute nap, that ended up being a two hour nap; he hadn't realised that the panic attack had taken it out of him like that. When he realised, he'd jumped up and practically flown down to Main Engineering. "It's Dr. Dettmer, isn't it?"

"That is indeed me." She was taller than Malcolm, around five-nine, taller thanks to her shoes, with her blonde hair tied up in a neat French twist. She was wearing a blue doctor's coat, but other than that was dressed casually in a grey knee length pinafore with a white button-down shirt and grey tights, leading Malcolm to believe she was a civilian doctor on board. "So, are you coming with me to sickbay, or am I giving this to you here?"

Malcolm said there would be fine, and she scanned him with her tricorder ("Fever still present") before giving him the hypospray. "Since I need to wait a few minutes to scan you again, why don't you boys tell me what you're up to." She moved over to get a better look at the device Trip was fiddling with while Geordi checked the output.

"Of course," Data said, moving to stand next to her. "As I informed you yesterday, I placed a grade three sensor array in the cave where Captain Archer, Cmdr. Tucker and Lt. Reed travelled through time. It has been measuring fluctuations in the temporal radiation generated by the tricaesium in the rock, and, at Trip's suggestion, the quantum signature of the rock itself. I am monitoring it in real time, here." He gestured to the screen he had been reading.

Geordi started tapping on the console in the middle of Engineering. "There are various other radioactive minerals in the rock face, and we think we've identified a specific combination of radiation that corresponds to a quantum signature that matches our guests, here."

"That's what this bad boy's for," Trip said, placing a hand on the device, that was cone shaped, with rings around it at various intervals. "It's a tachyon particle emitter: we think we can use it to fine tune the radiation given off by cave."

"Amplify the frequencies you want, block the ones you don't." Anna looked intently at the device. "Cool. When are you going to test it out?"

"We're going to head down to the planet's surface once we've finished up here, let it cycle through different particle emissions over-night," Geordi told her. "Our new friends may be leaving us tomorrow."

"We'll miss you too, Geordi," Archer said, putting the finishing touches on the emitter. He straightened up. "But, I am looking forward to getting back to my own Enterprise."

"I wish I could back with you, just for an hour," Geordi said, wistfully. "I have seen the NX-01 so many times in the Smithsonian, but to actually see in her in her prime? I'd give an arm and leg."

"Just be careful setting up your experiment, or you may get your wish," Anna pointed out to him.

"Will you be at the reception tonight?" Data asked Anna.

"Not a Department Head; wasn't invited."

"I will ask Captain Picard, perhaps you could come as my guest."

"If you get the go ahead, and I can find a babysitter, I'd love to. Thank you, Data." She smiled up at him, a smile which Data returned. "Right: you, my dear." She pointed at Malcolm, before hooking her finger in a 'come here' gesture. "Got to make sure that worked." They moved off to the side where she scanned him again. "Huzzah, the fever as diminished!" She held up her hands in triumph, before turning serious again. "But you still need to rest."

"If you need me to make that an order, let me know." Archer checked the emitter's output measurements, smirking at Malcolm. Anna thanked him, and bid them good luck with their work before returning to sickbay.

"So, everyone has their kids on board?" Trip asked absently mindedly, working on the emitter.

"There are two hundred and sixty seven children onboard," Data informed him. "Anna has a four year old boy named Dylr and a twenty-one month old girl named T'Pring."

"T'Pring? Sounds Vulcan, isn't Anna human?"

"Her late husband wasn't."

Trip looked up sharply at Data. "I'm sorry – her husband?"

"Yes, Sulek. He passed only weeks after the wedding in a shuttle accident. She did not even realise she was pregnant with T'Pring. I believe Dylr is from a previous relationship."

Trip and Archer exchanged a glance.

"Is that common?" Archer asked, putting down the PADD he had been reading. "Human-Vulcan marriages?"

Data frowned, considering. "It is not uncommon, nor are marriages between other species. Lt. Worf's son, for example is on quarter Klingon – his mother had a human mother and a Klingon father; Counsellor Troi had a human father, and a Betazoid mother, and there are plenty of other examples onboard."

Archer, Trip, and Malcolm just stared at Data for a moment. In their time they were still unsure if a Human and a Vulcan could have a viable pregnancy, and now here was Data telling them that it was commonplace in his time!

"And, um," Trip swallowed. "How are the kids? Are they healthy?"

"Very," Data replied. "T'Pring is very talkative. I have identified over one hundred nonsense words that she uses in attempt to communicate in various situations. As a result, I can understand her very well. And Dylr is a very good artist for a four year old; he also likes to play soccer, T-ball, go-fish, hide and seek, Legos –"

"Data and Anna are very close," Geordi interrupted him. "Dylr loves his Uncle Data."

"But the pregnancy, the kids, Anna and them were completely fine?" Trip said, striding towards Data. "The kids aren't sick, or anything? And it didn't harm Anna?"

Data opened his mouth to reply, but Geordi cut him off, holding up a hand. "Maybe we shouldn't answer that; temporal contamination and all."

"I already know they exist!" Trip whirled around to face Geordi. "One of the kids made it to four, for Christ's sake!"

"You are asking because of your daughter, Elizabeth," Data said simply.

Trip clenched his jaw. "What do you know about her?"

"That the cloning procedure used to create her sound, but the technicians careless," Data replied softly. "That carelessness was the sole cause of her deterioration. I also know that you and her mother only knew of her existence for a very short period of time, but were fully prepared to raise her as your child. Her funeral in January 2155 was attended by delegates from all members of the Coalition of Planets. I am very sorry for your loss, Trip; but know that Elizabeth T'Les Tucker was an important figure in Federation history."

Trip looked like he was fighting back tears. "You're damned right she was important," he said eventually. "And she also didn't have to suffer, did she."

Data was apologetic. "She did not."

Malcolm looked between the two, and Archer. Archer glanced his way, before clearing his throat. "But it's nice to know that it is possible – for a Human and a Vulcan to have a baby. Eventually."

"Yeah," Trip said, taking a step back from Data, his hands on his hips, and staring at the ground. "Yeah, eventually. Think I'll take a walk, get some air. Excuse me."

He strode past Data, his head still down. A look from Archer had Malcolm hurrying after him. They did a lap of the deck in silence, Trip breathing heavily the entire time. When they almost back to the other, Trip stopped, and running his hand over his jaw turned to Malcolm.

"We could have a baby," he said, his voice thick. "T'Pol and I could actually have a baby."

"But you knew that already," Malcolm replied softly. "You did meet Lorian."

"I know, but since Elizabeth…" he trailed off, choking back a sob. "Since Elizabeth I've been wondering if maybe Lorian wasn't some kind of fluke, you know. That maybe if we were to try and have a child that we'd just have to watch that happen all over again." He pressed his hand into his eyes. "It was the longest two weeks of my life, Malcolm, just watching her… I know I can't do that again; I won't survive it."

Malcolm reached out and grabbed his arm. "But you won't," Malcolm insisted. "You heard what Data said: it was the cloning procedure they used, not the combination of your DNA. If you want a baby, you and T'Pol can have a baby."

Trip nodded, turning his head to the side. "It's just a lot." He took a deep breath, and jerked his thumb in the direction of the Engineering. "We best get back."

They returned without talking, and Trip strode into Main Engineering with his head up and a determined look on his face. They found the others grouped around one of the screens, Archer nodding to whatever Geordi was telling him. They all looked up at Trip and Malcolm's return.

It was Data who spoke. "I feel we are ready to deploy the emitter. I shall inform Captain Picard."

Geordi started to pack up the emitter and what other equipment they would need to set it up. Ten minutes later, after getting the go ahead from Captain Picard, they'd beamed down to a cavern about thirty metres from the sensor array Data had set up yesterday. It was just off the other cavern with the pool of water the Archer and Malcolm had fallen into. After marking off a safe area where they would be out of range of the temporal radiation they got to work.

Malcolm wasn't even sure why he'd come along. Nobody had raised any objections to it, but he wasn't exactly useful in this situation; there wasn't even enough room for him to have a look at the equipment, with Archer and Data pouring over sensor readings, and Trip and Geordi made sure everything was working as it was supposed to. Malcolm walked a little further down the tunnel and came to the spot where the rock had given away around his anchor yesterday. He shone his light down into the water and shivered. It made him nervous just being this close to it. That sensation of tightness in his chest and throat that he was getting all too accustomed to was being to creep up on him again. He took a few deep breaths, trying to put pressure on his palm the way Trip had shown him earlier, after his panic attack in Ten Forward. It wasn't working. Malcolm tried pushing harder, his breathing quickening. It still wasn't working –

"Malcolm."

He whipped around. There, looking like a ghost, and standing a little too close, was Data. Malcolm nearly jumped out of his skin.

"Apologies if I startled you. It would be best if you did not wander off, there have been some unusual readings throughout the entire cave system. We would not want to lose you in the Middle Ages. Are you alright? You seem perturbed." Data glanced down at Malcolm's hands, where Malcolm was still unsuccessfully trying to perform neuro-pressure. "You are doing that incorrectly."

"Sir?"

"The neuro-pressure. You have your fingers placed too centrally in the palm and are using far too much pressure. May I?" He held out his hand. After a beat, Malcolm let him take it. "Like this." He began to gently place Malcolm's fingers in the correct positions and demonstrate how much pressure to use. The breathing was fairly simple and within a few moments Malcolm felt himself come back under control. He gingerly took his hand back.

"Thank you, sir." He glanced over his shoulder at the pool again before looking back at Data. "You're familiar with Vulcan neuro-pressure?"

"Anna is," Data explained. "She attended medical school at the Vulcan Science Academy and occasionally assists Counsellor Troi. She occasionally practices on me to keep her skills sharp as she cannot hurt me. I have picked up the technique from her."

"Vulcan?" Malcolm could not _wait_ to see T'Pol's face when told there were humans attending her Alma Mater.

"Indeed. She met her late husband there." Data stood to one side, indicating that Malcolm should pass. "She practiced on Vulcan for two years before taking a position on the Enterprise."

"You said that her husband died only a few weeks after the wedding?" They were nearly with the others now, Malcolm could hear them talking up ahead.

"Yes; he was a plant scientist who was also meant to take up a position as a civilian contractor onboard. Anna arrived ahead of him; I was with her when she got the news."

"We're all set up here, I suggest we head back to the beam in site before we end up in last week," Geordi said as they approached.

Data was scanning their surroundings with his tricorder, his brow furrowed. "We must leave, and quickly. There is a wave of –"

But he was cut off. A sensation that was familiar to Archer, Trip and Malcolm swept over all of them and just as quickly dissipated.

"Please tell me," Geordi began, looking around the cave. "_Please_ tell me we did not just do what I think we did?"

Data took a reading from the wall next to him. "I believe we did, Geordi." Geordi hung his head, and slumped his shoulders. "Captain Archer, I believe you will have more success using your comm than we will have with ours."

Archer took his comm out his arm pocket, flicked it open and hailed Enterprise.

"This is Enterprise, go ahead Captain."

"Hoshi?"

"Right here, sir. Is everything okay?"

"How long have we been on the surface?"

"Captain?"

"How long Hoshi?"

"Two and a half hours, sir."

When they'd been catapulted into the future it had only been an hour. Archer looked at his companions. "Start recalling everyone to the shuttle pods. I want everyone back onboard both the Enterprise and the Columbia on the double. I'll explain later. Archer out." He dropped his hand to his side. "I'm open to suggestions."

"The equipment." Trip ran back to the cavern, stopping where they'd set up. "It's gone." He turned to the others who's followed him. He waved his arms at the now empty cave.

"Or it was never here in the first place, or won't be here until for another two hundred years," Malcolm said. An unpleasant thought struck him. "How are we meant to get out of here without caving equipment?"

"One problem at a time, Malcolm." The Captain turned to Data. "Did that wave come from in here?"

"No, sir, it came from the direction we were heading in. I do not believe it extended this far, which is why our equipment was not brought back through time along with us."

"Could the two of you just walk in there and end up in the proper time?" Malcolm asked, pointing at the cave behind Trip.

After scanning the cave walls, Data shook his head. "At this moment in time the quantum signature does not match the 24th century. It was sheer luck that we were brought to this time at all."

Archer thought for a moment. "Do you think you could recreate the scanner and the particle emitter with the equipment _we_ have on board?"

Trip and Geordi turned to each other, thinking. "I think we can manage it, sir. Should be faster now we have a better idea of what we're doing," Trip said finally.

Archer sighed. They came up with a plan: Data would climb out, rendezvous with Travis, and bring back what they needed to get out of here. The rest of them would attempt to get as far as they could without ropes.

At least Geordi would get his wish.


	11. I Have a Ship to Run

"So are the Vulcans going to believe we travelled forward in time?" Trip asked as he and T'Pol entered the turbolift.

"Possibly. Certain sectors of the scientific community have started to re-examine the possibility of time travel."

Trip hesitated before speaking again. "What do you think about what I said, about the human-vulcan hybrids?"

They'd left the lift and were halfway down the corridor before T'Pol answered. "An intriguing possibility. We could have another baby without concern for its genetic integrity. I admit, given Elizabeth's condition I had not given it serious thought."

"We've never really discussed if we wanted another one." They stopped outside lab and faced each other. "Maybe we should talk about it… now that we know… what we know."

T'Pol raised her eyebrows. "Right now?"

"No," Trip rolled his eyes. "And don't give me the 'silly human' eyebrow, you know full well what I meant."

"What eyebrow?" T'Pol asked, perfectly innocent.

"Let's just go get our friends home."

"As you wish."

"We're talking about it later." They opened the door and entered. Trip muttered under his breath, knowing full well that T'Pol could hear him, "Might want me a little Charles Tucker IV…"

"Nearly finished," Geordi told them as they came in. "Just need to align the EPS conduit… and there: One tachyon particle emitter and one quantum sensor array."

"Made to order." Trip looked over the devices. "Where's the Captain? And Malcolm?"

"Captain Archer and Captain Hernandez received a communiqué from Admiral Gardner and Malcolm was needed in the Armoury," Data replied, perfectly polite. They went over the plan to get them back to their time once more: set up the monitoring equipment in the cave system and get out as fast as possible in case they were thrown somewhere else in time. As Geordi and Data had increased the range and sensitivity of the transporter, they were able to beam down into the cave system. They did just that, set up their equipment, narrowly avoiding another wave. Immediately, Geordi and Data undid whatever they did to the transporter.

"As we know have time to kill, and time is not technically of the essence, may we have a tour?" Data asked. "And possibly a camera?"

"Trip, I did show you mine…" Geordi said, grinning and hopeful. He clapped his hands and pumped a fist in triumph when Trip agreed. He gleefully laughed. "This might be the best day of my life."

After checking with Captain Archer first, they started with Engineering, moved on to the shuttle bays, cargo bays, the mess, the Captain's mess, the galley to meet Chef, visited Malcolm in the armoury, saw the secondary control centre in the port nacelle, Geordi even wanted to see the crew quarters and was almost as happy to meet Porthos in the Captain's quarters as he was to get a tour of the warp engine from the Chief Engineer himself.

"Welcome to the bridge, gentlemen," Archer smiled, standing as they exited the lift. "I hope you didn't give Porthos any cheese."

"No, sir, and thank you for giving us a peek," Geordi said, looking in awe around the bridge. "Captain Picard will be pretty jealous we got to see all this."

"I thought the NX-01 was in a museum?" Hoshi asked. Geordi turned to her and smiled.

"Oh, it is, but it's completely different to seeing it like this – full of life, everyone at their stations – it's a dream come true, Ensign Sato."

"Don't you have any holodeck recreations of the crew?" Malcolm had just beaten them to the bridge and was at his station (_Holodeck?_ Travis mouthed at Hoshi. She shrugged in response).

"Sure, but it's not the same." Geordi turned his attention to the helm. "Travis Mayweather, right? Space Boomer who can fly anything?"

Travis had a grin that matched Geordi's. "Well, I don't know about anything…"

"You're being modest, Travis," Archer said. "There's no other helmsman in Starfleet I'd rather have piloting my ship."

"Thank you, sir." Travis was pretty pleased with himself.

"I was at the helm myself for a while, before getting promoted to Chief Engineer," Geordi told him, walking over and looking in amazement at the helm controls. "It is so different."

"Old fashioned?" Hoshi joked.

"I was going to say vintage," Geordi grinned at her over his shoulder.

"Is there a difference?"

"Yes, vintage is cool," Travis told her.

Captain Archer got up to show then his ready room, the final part of the tour, before informing Geordi and Data that he'd already cleared a tour of the Columbia with Captain Hernandez.

"I believe 'died and gone to Heaven' is the appropriate expression here, sir," Data said in reference to Geordi. Trip took them over to the Columbia, and gave them an abridged version of the Enterprise tour, seeing as he was getting tired and wanted to get back to work – hitching a ride on Geordi's enthusiasm would only get him so far. Honestly, he could probably have left Data give the tour, he seemed to have memorized the layout of both ships. And as they were heading back through the airlock, he wished he'd never shown them Columbia at all.

"Where was the Columbia's Chief Engineer?" Geordi asked. He hadn't know that Trip had very briefly served on the Columbia before requesting a transfer back to the Enterprise.

Trip's stomach dropped. "Probably his quarters," he lied. "I think he was a bit under the weather." He didn't like the look Data gave him; like he knew Trip had just lied. And considering he seemed to have downloaded all of Enterprise's records into his brain, he probably did. Seeing as it was nearing eighteen hundred, Geordi and Data were going to be late for dinner with the Captains, Trip quickly escorted them to the Captain's, before joining T'Pol, Hoshi and Travis at their table. He'd worked up one hell of an appetite and he was going to enjoy that pecan pie.

* * *

The sickbay doors opened to reveal Dr. Phlox in the middle of feeding the many creatures dotted around sickbay. There was happy, squawking sounds coming from the cages, and impatient rattling coming from the tank Phlox was dropping some other kind of furry creature into. The Doctor glanced around as Malcolm entered, but continued to toss whatever he was tossing into the tank. "Ah, Lieutenant." Phlox closed the tank, and turned to look at Malcolm, smiling. "You look rather serious," Phlox noted airily. "What can I do for you this evening?"

Malcolm held his hands behind his back, coming to stand in the middle of the room. "Evening, Doctor. Bit of a headache is all." His eyes were shifting about the room, as though he was looking for something. He hopped up on a bed at Phlox's direction.

Phlox grabbed a tricorder from a shelf, and brought it over to Malcolm. "Hmm. Well, I can't find any vascular or neurological reason for the headache. Perhaps a mild analgesic." He turned to the side to prepare a hypospray, glancing back at Malcolm out of the corner of his eye. "How did you find your trip to the future? Illuminating, perhaps?"

"Only a little. I'm afraid that both Captain Archer and the Captain of the future Enterprise insisted on keeping things tightly under wraps." He swung his legs back and forth, once. "All I can tell you is that the ship is much more roomy. It's like a city flying through space."

"Do you disapprove?" Phlox returned to stand in front of Malcolm, hypospray in both hands.

"I wouldn't say I disapprove, I just think we have a job to do; I mean we're not on holiday."

"Still, everyone needs some down time, now and again. I see no reason why a, uh, _starship_ should not have recreational facilities on board, imagine if you didn't have access to the gym? The crew are not robots, after all."

Malcolm really wanted to reply that actually, one of them _was_, but the Captain had decided that it would be best if no one knew the truth about Data; all the crew had been told was that he was not human, and don't ask questions. And no, he didn't look like Arik Soong.

Phlox smiled at Malcolm, still holding the hypospray to his chest, expectantly. "So, was it, um, _just_ a headache, Lieutenant?"

Malcolm rubbed his hands together, looking towards the store area off to the side, hesitating before speaking. _Here goes nothing_. "There's no one else here, is there? Crewman Cutler isn't hiding in the back making up medicines or anything?"

Phlox looked around, spreading his arms, before smiling again at Malcolm. "We are quite alone, Lieutenant, unless you count my menagerie. Now – what can I really do for you?"

"The thing is, I've never actually come to a doctor about this issue before." Malcolm eyes shifted around the room. "I don't quite know where to begin."

"I find the beginning is normally the best place."

Malcolm clasped his hands neatly in his lap, his shoulders back, spine straight. He would have been the picture of military stoicism, had he not been staring over Phlox's shoulder and biting his bottom lip. "It's not so much a – _medical_ – issue, it's more…" He trailed off.

"Psychological?" Phlox suggested helpfully. After a beat, Malcolm nodded. "Was there a specific incident that brought you to come see me?"

"The Captain thought it would be a good idea," Malcolm finally admitted. "I was ordered to come see you, in fact."

"Yes, he mentioned you might be stopping by. Why don't I get us some tea and we can talk?" Phlox made to move towards his storeroom but froze when Malcolm next spoke.

"I don't think this is strictly necessary," Malcolm said, brusquely. "There's nothing wrong with me."

Phlox slowly turned back. "I never said there was," he said slowly. "Did the Captain imply so?"

"He wants to arrange for me to see you for counselling." There was a hint of bitterness in Malcolm's voice.

"And you don't see the need?" Phlox leaned to the side, trying to make eye contact with Malcolm, who was still resolutely avoiding it. Until he looked up sharply, causing Phlox to start.

"Do you think there's a need?" There was a hint of a bark in his voice.

Phlox shrugged, composing his thoughts before replying. "I've always been a believer in looking after one's mental health, it is, after all, no _less_ important than your _physical_ health; you have a yearly physical to ensure the body is healthy, why shouldn't you extend the same level of care to the mind? Surely, every now and then a check-up is in order?"

"There's nothing wrong with me."

"Of course not!" Phlox shook his head, waving that comment away. "If you had the flu, would you say there was something wrong with you?"

"Well, yes, I'd have the flu!" Malcolm was now pressing his elbows into his sides, squeezing his hands with his knees, scanning sickbay without really seeing anything.

"Would there be something wrong with _you_? Hmm?" Phlox ducked his head, trying to make eye contact with Malcolm. "With you, Malcolm Reed; would there be something fundamentally wrong with _you_, with who you are as a person that caused you to get the flu and to need to seek medical care?"

That brought Malcolm up short. "No? I suppose not, no."

"There would be something physically wrong, but nothing wrong with who you _are…_ as a person. Correct?" Malcolm nodded. "Then would the same not be true if there was something, um, abnormal, with your _mental_ health?"

Malcolm thought for moment. "I know what you're getting at, Doctor, but I don't know that I believe that."

"Believe what?" Phlox pressed. He patiently waited for Malcolm to answer.

"The, the separation of being mentally ill and, and…" Malcolm paused, trying to make his thoughts coherent. "There being a fault with _me_. With who I am."

"Is there anything that _does_ make you think that there is something wrong with who you are?"

"No," Malcolm said, tensely. "I'm fine." He heaved a sigh, then said brusquely. "This was a mistake. Thank you for your time, Doctor." He hopped down off the bed, brushing a bit too forcefully passed Phlox and headed for the doors.

"Lieutenant, please. _Lt. Reed_."

Malcolm stopped, turning slowly.

Phlox exhaled. "I know talking can be difficult, particularly after what you went through, but I _implore_ you to try."

"I don't need to try anything!" Malcolm snapped, his hands balled into fists.

"Then why did the Captain ask you to come see me? Hmm? Can you answer me that?"

"The Captain is overreacting."

"Overreacting to what?"

That drew Malcolm up short. He struggled to find the words for a moment. "Nothing! It threw me, what happened, I admit that. But I'm dealing with it. _Alone_."

And with that he stormed out of sickbay, leaving Phlox standing in the middle of the room, the sickbay doors closing on the concerned expression on his face.

* * *

"I bet you Rowe will be waiting in my ready room when I get back to Columbia." Erika reached for the butter, spreading a liberal amount on her toast. "He didn't come to me yesterday, or the day before."

Johnathan swallowed his own mouthful of toast and washed it down with some juice before replying. "Maybe he feels he doesn't need to anymore. You got to admit, almost two weeks of coming to you is a bit much."

"He's the easy one, Johnathan." She spread some egg yolk on her toast as well. "He cries, I give him a tissue, pat him on the shoulder, crack a joke, he perks up, goes back to work." She was talking with her hands, waving her slice of toast around. Porthos was eyeing it, greedily. "He's a bit subdued, according to Chef, but I can see him coming round eventually. And he's gone in to see the Doctor twice, so there's that. He's dealing. But the other two, Johnathan." Her expression turned pained as she pinched the bridge of her nose. "Singh didn't get out of bed yesterday. No excuse, no nothing. Dr. Ramirez said she might have to put him on something, but God knows how long that'll take to kick in. But I got him up, couple of his pals dragged him to the surface. I put him on leave until we leave orbit."

"Can you blame him for cracking?"

"Of course not, but I have a starship to run. So do you, by the way," she said pointedly, referring to their guests.

Johnathan pretended not to hear her. "Yeah, about that…" He busied himself with cutting up his bacon and giving the rinds to Porthos. "I might need to borrow you Armoury Officer from time to time."

"Reed crack too?" Erika asked, sympathy crossing her face.

"No, but he's about to."

"Why do you say that?"

Johnathan gave her the cliff notes version of Malcolm's behaviour in the 24th century. "I know he's had a panic attack or two since the assault but never one after the other like that. I think it really took it out of him."

"Riker junior probably didn't help," Erika pointed out, taking some more toast. "Once he's removed from that situation, he'll probably go back to just the one or two a week." The grin slipped from her face. "That was a joke, Johnathan."

"Yeah, well I don't feel like laughing."

"He went to Phlox last night, that was not nothing; Singh said he'd try the meds; Rowe will let me know if _he_ needs anything..." She trailed off. "And then there's Lewin." She sighed, giving Porthos some bacon. "He's so angry. There's no other way to describe him: he's just angry. No one wants to work with him, and I can't take him off active duty, because he'll go even more nuts, but like I said –"

"You have a ship to run."

"I have a ship to run. And he can't keep biting everyone's head off. He's going to come to blows with someone, I know it." She bit into her toast with more force than was necessary, before huffing through her nose and staring at the opposite wall, shaking her head.

Johnathan ate a few forkfuls of scrambled egg, before putting his fork down and bringing his hands together, elbows on the table. "And since Trip is pulling double-duty on your ship –"

"How often do you need Lt. Delbruck?"

"I need to figure out how much I'm going to limit Malcolm's duties; there haven't been any issues with his work, but if his attacks get worse, I'm going to have to restrict his hours," Johnathan explained. He shrugged. "Not a problem right now, but –"

"It's in the back of your mind," Erika finished for him. "Believe me, I understand."


End file.
